Stowaway
by Arwen Lune
Summary: [FINISHED!] Five months after the events of the film, life on the Black Pearl is peaceful, and captain and crew enjoy the easy life. Then they encounter a stowaway with an agenda all of her own...
1. Stowaway chapter 1

Okay, since the film didn't show all THAT much in the way of motivations and such, writers will kind of have to make some stuff up as they go along. If we didn't, there'd be nothing we could write without take the captain wildly out of character. So here's my view on Captain Jack Sparrow:  
He's certainly had a whack from the mill (as they say in my language) but not as bad as he sometimes likes to let out. He likes to show people the legend, not the man, because it keeps them just slightly off-balance. He can focus well enough when the need is there (see the scene in the beginning, where he escapes by holding Elizabeth hostage – he's clear and lucid all the way through) but when it isn't focusing, he seems to be riding some of inner flow. To me, it's overcompensating for movement – waves – underfoot that make some of his movements so exaggerated. Sort of a permanent case of seamans legs.  
He can be serious when he feels there's no one to impress or distract, and he's got a certain brand of brilliance that does indeed often seem like insanity. He tends to be 7 steps ahead of everybody else.

Now, on to the story. This is my own attempt at writing a woman into the Captains' life who is NOT his ship, because I still feel that the Pearl is his one and true love. But that doesn't mean that there cannot be relationships in his life, right? 

Please forgive my bad chaptering, since this was written as one long file and divided into bits when I thought I had enough to go on with. The title is subject to change, since it is a bit standard I'll make a better title when I've worked out where the characters intend to take this.

  


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STOWAWAY

  
  


There was someone in his cabin. He could not define exactly how he knew this, but he took it as he took most other things on his path – in stride. Captain Jack Sparrow soundlessly drew his sword and inched forward into the captains' cabin. It was not like him to zealously guard his privileges - most of these days he preferred to sleep on deck in any case, preferring the open sky above him and the soothing sounds of timber and sail. 

But there was someone in his cabin, someone who did not want to be found. 

The only one of his crew who could be this still was Anamaria, and she was no longer aboard. To his regret, she'd found a lad for company a couple of ports ago and had stayed ashore. He had been sad to see her go, but she had made it abundantly clear that a few shared nights held no claim on her, so what could he do? 

But since it could not possibly be Anamaria, this had to be someone else. Jack moved through the room with the quiet determination to find out who. 

After a methodical sweep of the port-side of the cabin, he turned to the side which contained the closets. Most of them were empty, for though he had been captain of the Black Pearl for almost 5 months now, Jack wasn't one to accumulate goods. The storing cupboard closest to his bunk contained a few blankets, a change of clothes, and his personal reserve of rum. Deciding it was most likely to find someone there, he opened the other cupboard first. The soft squeaks emanating from a mice nest dimmed abruptly. Jack contemplated the use of a cat onboard – did he prefer fur everywhere or mice holes everywhere? - and swung open the last cupboard, sword ready.

There was a comforting lack of walking skeletons emerging from the storing space.

What _was_ inside seemed to be a roll made of his blankets, covering wholly the body which seemed to be curled up inside. It did not move.   
Now what the devil was that, a dead body in his cupboard? 

Jack scratched his chin, trying to remember when he'd last opened the cupboard. Not since they'd left the port two days ago. That belonged to the intensely boring trading city of Portana, which contained nothing of interest to the denizens of the Black Pearl except fresh food and water. They had stayed there the grand total of one day, taken in water, food and rum, and left as soon as the tide went out. There were some places even Captain Jack Sparrow steered clear of, and not all of them for fear of gallows. Boredom killed too - often slower...  
Blinking, he turned his attention back to the body. What was it again? Oh yes, it had not been there two days ago. If it was dead, probably not gooey yet.  
On that decidedly practical note, he reached out with the tip of his sword and turned the edge of the blanket over. 

Inside was a woman.

She seemed to be breathing, too.

Well, that certainly left out several unpleasant scenarios involving cruel demented vicious walking skeletons, and it almost certainly meant there would be no gallows in his immediate future. He relaxed his stance somewhat. Jack had had his share of nightmares about the events a few months ago, though he would never admit that to anyone. 

When he turned his attention back to the matter at hand, he looked a little closer at this uninvited visitor. She had light brown skin, curly brown hair, and the suggestion to her face that while one of her parents was white, the other was not. There was a dark bruise high on her cheekbone, and more around her neck.

She was also still fast asleep. Folding back more of the blanket, Jack found out how that could be. Her arms were curled tightly about a rolled-up blanket, and in her hands was a bottle.

She'd been drinking his rum! Not just _rum_ either, but one of the best bottles that he'd bought in an expensive shop in Portana. _Captain_ rum.

It looked as if she'd drank at least a third of the bottle, but he knew from experience that that need not mean that she would be harmless when she woke up. Having seen Anamaria go from inebriated sleep to knife-holding full alertness a few times, he wasn't about to assume that waking this stowaway would be without danger.

In any case, it might prove amusing to wait until she woke. He was interested in hearing her explain the situation. Leaving the cupboard open, he settled himself comfortably on his bunk, sword next to him. 

Sitting like that, staring at the horizon thought the porthole close by, he felt utterly and completely comfortable. The Pearl, _his_ Pearl, was back under his feet, and the rest of the world could fall apart, but he was captain of his ship again. The memory of all those years without her seemed bleak and off somehow, drained of colour. Only now, out at sea with his beloved ship at his command, he felt himself.   
He knew he drank less these days, with the rocking of the Pearl under his feet – there was no need to find the motion in the bottle anymore. The freedom of the open sea and the wind in the sails induced the same euphoric feeling as the bottle used to, and it had no after-effects. 

Except perhaps that he had also become more careful, valued the freedom more this time. They rarely took ships these days, mindful of how far they could go without getting the full force of the navy after them. Now he had her again, Captain Jack Sparrow wasn't about to bring the Pearl and her crew into danger, or himself near the gallows. The simple pleasure of sailing his own ship was enough to content him.

And there was a time when he would have thought himself weak for that, but when he stood at the Sparrows' nest of the Black Pearl, he knew that whatever he needed to do to stay with his ship, his lady, would be worth it.

  
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Chills! Thrills! Spills! Will the Captain recover his rum? Will we find out about the unexpected guest who may or may not be a walking skeleton? (well, probably not, but you never know, it's not paranoia if they really were out to get you, etc) And what on earth possesses a woman to throw in her luck with pirates? (you girls don't count, you know about Captain Jack Sparrow being a decent sort SHE didn't, or did she?)

There'll be more of this I'm sure, but as always mode=shameless feedback slut Tell me you love me and it'll happen faster!/mode

Cheers,  
Arwen Lune   
(who has way, _way_ too many stories in progress..)  



	2. Stowaway chapter 2

STOWAWAY

_chapter 2_

  
  


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Captain Jack Sparrows' wandering thoughts were pulled back to the current situation when the woman stirred. She drew her knees up higher, hands moving toward her face as if to shield it. The bottle fell over – corked, thankfully – and the sound of it shuddered through her. Jack watched all this with interest, wondering if she was perhaps caught in a restless dream. 

Just when he contemplated waking her – over the past months he had gained sympathy for those who dreamt lively – she made a keening sound and pushed herself away from some perceived danger in the back of the cupboard. Unfortunately for her, this brought her head into sharp connection with the very real danger of the side wall of the cupboard. Her eyes flew open.

Poor love, and you were having such a headache already Jack grinned. Her eyes narrowed, and she scampered into a sitting position, hands fluttering nervously. When she looked at him, he saw her take in his attire, his gold-toothed grin and the naked sword next to him, and she grew still.

Who— who are you?

Her voice was soft and a little shaky, but he saw no signs of a hangover in her. Her eyes were a clear coffee-brown, and wary, but not fearful.

Seeing as this is _my_ ship you're on, I think I get to ask that question first, love Jack answered. She nodded shakily, though she did not seem all that intimidated by him.

I am Janeen I thought you might help me there was a mix of hope and worry on her face, and she gave him an imploring look. I have to run from my father, he- he— her breath hitched, and there was a long pause in which she wrung her hands nervously, avoiding his eyes. He wanted me to marry to— she took a deep, shuddering breath, I had to get away I thought you might help me she concluded, voice small with misery. 

Jack held her under his scrutiny for a long moment. She was pretty, with a face that held the best of both sides of her family. The dress she wore was well made, but had obviously been worn for a while. 

Go on, tell me another story, he said finally. He was pleased to see her startle slightly, but she recovered quickly.

that meek tone again. 

You don't seem fearful no matter how much you try, you drank a good bit of rum and you wake up fresh and sharp, so you have more tolerance than the girl you're pretending to be, she would not have the skill to stay hidden on my ship for two days either, and besides all that, you don't pass for a day under thirty, he summed up. To his satisfaction, she looked chagrined. So tell me the real story, he commanded, gesturing for her to begin talking.

Tried my con one time to many and need to disappear for a while, she admitted gruffly. There was no sign of the tearful fear she had affected only moments earlier. Jack grinned.

And the name love, is the name true?

She nodded.

"Good. I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."

Her eyes widened just slightly, but she made no further reaction.  
Jack sighed, trying to decide what to do with her. He did not generally encourage stowaways, but this one was different from the desperate youths he had encountered before. For one thing, this woman gave the impression that she could take care of herself. Her act would probably work on more respectable men, too And what was he going to do, maroon her? 

If you work with the crew, you can stay until the next port, he said finally, getting up from the bed. She tilted her head sideways to look up at him.

Thank you, she said with the hint of a smile. Jack studied her face for a moment, thinking that he had been wrong – she did seem younger than thirty now. There were harsh lines in her face, as if life had not been easy, and it probably had not been. But now that she was no longer fearful or angry, he found her rather pleasant to the eye.

She awkwardly got to her feet – probably wounded somewhere, but he wasn't going to concern himself with it – and leaned against the wall for a moment as if her head spun. He reached out a hand to steady her, but she flinched instinctively as if she thought he might strike her. Jack shook his head, a little unsettled by her reaction. Somehow it disturbed him that she thought him capable of that.

Nay, nay. Are you wounded? How did that happen?

It had probably happened in the same event that had caused her to need a ship so desperately that she had turned to a pirates' ship, but he was interested in hearing the story anyway.

I had underestimated how my latest victim would react to blackmailing, she said after a long moment, her voice tight. She was avoiding his eyes.

He wondered why she would not look at him now. Was it because she was ashamed for her actions, or ashamed that they had failed? Anyhow, she didn't seem intent on speaking about it. Looking at the bruise on her face, he could imagine why. He had noticed that her right wrist was red and swollen, and there was just the slightest hitch in her breathing.

I'll bring you to Gibbs, he'll give you a task. Have you sailed before?

she admitted in a laconic tone. At least, not actively.

But smuggled yourself aboard for a few journeys, aye?

She nodded, a cheerfully defiant look in her eyes.  
Easy for you to look down on that! No one would take me aboard if I asked, and I needed a ship to get away!

She had a point there, Jack conceded. If they stayed with what was expected of them, women would never get off the island they were born on. Most crews still held to the idea that it was bad luck to have women aboard. Gibbs certainly still did  
He could not imagine what life would be like, stuck on an island that was so familiar that you knew every rock and tree. To him, the open sea held all the freedom he could wish for, and he certainly wasn't the one to deny that freedom to anyone else.

I'll introduce you to Gibbs, he'll have a task for you, no doubt."

  


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General note: this is just a bit of fun. Captain Jack Sparrow kept chattering in my head and another idea that's been drifting for a while seemed to mesh with him quite well. But there's no plan. No pre-destined story arc. I do not connect as much value to this story as I do to stories like To Deliver and The Downside – this is having fun with Captain and assorted others. I proofread and spell-check, and I try to make it work alright, but I do not use the two-day-hold for chapters like I do with my 'serious' stories. Right now I'm having a break from rewriting the aforementioned stories, and my break happens to be this story. So someone saying that this is below the standard set with the others is probably right, but I don't care, because I'm enjoying this one ;-D

Yay, reviews!

**Peachness**: glad you think Jack is in character. It's very hard for me to shape out his character from the inside, since he's such an oddball, mysterious person in the film. But I suppose it is working a bit  
**Synopa**: Oh, reviews like that make me look forward to posting the next chapter :-)  
**Bright Eyes**: glad I've made you curious.  
**ChuChing**: Flattery will get you everywhere, my dear! Second chapter here now, more soon to follow. I've written ahead, so I have a bit of freedom with the rest of writing. As for To Deliver, I'm rewriting it, and the sequel will not come out until the rewrite is done. I've only just discovered one of the major defining characteristics for the OC, Lómë, so a lot is changing I would say that I'm working on it, but I'm not right now – too busy in _Pirates_ and the _The Mummy_ fandom 


	3. Stowaway chapter 3

**STOWAWAY**  
Chapter 3  


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She followed him out of his cabin and onto deck. Gibbs was at the helm, staring at a map while holding the wheel straight with his knee.

"Gibbs!" he called out. Gibbs dropped the map and hurriedly took over the wheel with a hand. "Do you have a task for this unexpected passenger?"

Jack grinned when a stormy cloud passed over the face of his first mate.  
"What did you go and do now, Captain? We can't be having bad luck if we're sailing all the way to Grenada!"

"Never had more than our share with Anamaria on board, did we?"

"That was a special case," Gibbs grudgingly admitted. "Anamaria was a pirate and a good sailor. She," he nodded his head in the direction of the woman, who stood by listening interestedly, "looks like she's never heaved a sail."

Jack shrugged. "Unless the woman in question was very obnoxious, I never was much for setting womanfolk overboard. She'll have to learn."

Gibbs looked at the woman critically. "You have a name?"

"Janeen," she answered him, her tone even. She gave him a small smile.

"Well Janeen, I've thought of a task for you. Why don't you climb up to the crows' nest, and you can holler down when you spot land."

The woman looked up, and the confidence faded from her stance as she spotted how far up the crows' nest was. Then, her eyes never leaving that point, she walked toward the shroud of the mast, and began climbing. Gibbs and the Captain watched her go up, slow and shakily at points, but with determination. The higher she got, the more haltingly her progress became, but she never stopped or looked down.

When he was reasonably certain she would not fall – and she was too far up to glimpse under her dress - Jack picked up the map Gibbs had dropped. A quick look at the sky and his instruments helped him pinpoint their approximate location on it.

Mate, we're more than a day from land!

Gibbs grinned.  
That just means we won't be having her underfoot now, eh?

Jack had to admit his first mate had a point. It was best to ensure her journey would not be too comfortable – she might end up with entirely the wrong ideas about pirates. He went about his tasks.

Not long after that, soft tones of a simple flute could be heard from the sparrows' nest, now drifting in the breeze, now coming down to those on deck. 

The woman did indeed stay up there for the remainder of the day. By nightfall, Jack thought to enjoy the last light from his favourite spot, and climbed up with a blanket and a bottle of rum.

She'd nestled herself as warm as possible, an arm around the mast, but seemingly no longer afraid of the height. When he climbed up on the small platform, she stopped playing the flute, and gave him an uncertain smile.

Does this fit two people?

The crows' nest does not, he pointed at the platform in the foremast, but you are lucky that this is, in fact, the sparrows' nest, which does fit two people, provided they like each other. 

Her smile froze. I'm in the wrong mast?

It amused him that she chose to ignore his comment about the size of the sparrows' nest. Elizabeth would have been scandalised, but this woman, not so well-bred, was practical.

Jack just shrugged. It would appear that you are, but I see no problem. Perhaps it is better after all, since this one has more space, so less chance that ye'll drop off when you fall asleep.

I doubt I'll fall asleep here, she answered, her eyes on the horizon.

Oh, but ye'll learn to sleep here. And I've brought a few learning aids

He gave her the blanket, which she folded gratefully around herself, and took a good swig of the rum, then offered her the bottle. She took a long swig, swallowed, and prepared to up-end the bottle once more. Moving water-quick, Jack snagged it from her hands before she could drink more.

She drew back her hands, startled, and cradled her right wrist in the other hand. 

Easy Lass, easy. Small sips, 'cause the crew don't like having to mop blood off the deck, savvy?

She paled slightly as the mental image formed in her mind, and shuffled a little closer against the mast. Jack hid a grin as the side of her knee touched his, but she did not pull away, preferring his proximity over the danger of the edge. 

So what exactly made you decide to throw your luck in with the pirates? he asked her. She shrugged.

Actually, at the time I needed one, your Pearl was the only ship within my reach that did not have orders to either return me to Portana or, if that were not possible, shoot me on sight.

Then you must have made the governor a very unhappy man! 

Instead of boasting this fact, she cast her eyes down.  
So I did.

Then tell me why exactly should I keep you aboard if the governor of Portana is sending ships after you?

He wouldn't send ships after me, she assured him quickly. I'm certain he would rather die than let this matter get public. 

And you paid no thought to the fact that stealing onto a pirates' ship might land you in more trouble than you were avoiding?

She gave him a quick glance and then cast down her eyes again.   
I had heard no stories of Captain Sparrow eating human flesh or tearing out the tongues of his enemies, she said softly, a wry tone colouring her voice. 

There are no such stories? Jack asked, his tone mock-shocked. I shall be sure to spread some at the very next port.

Janeen smiled wryly, casting a look downward.

Add the detail that those who are afraid of heights should stay well away, too.

Jack grinned toothily.   
You noticed that, huh? Bit of a test from Gibbs, that was.

And what if I had failed?

He shrugged.   
Would've depended on how much your presence bothered me, really. I'm not much for marooning people, so if you were very annoying, we'd probably give you a float and set you off with civilised land in sight. 

He could tell that she did not quite believe that, but did not bother to explain about his own experiences with being marooned. There were some memories he preferred not to dwell on. 

He shrugged. Dun'ave to b'lieve me. he took a long swig of rum.

My apologies Janeen said under her breath. I am a little jittery just now.

I noticed that, love, he said, and they sat in silence for a long while, watching the red-golden light fade in the west. To his surprise Janeen seemed quite comfortable now, a world of difference from when she'd first climbed up.

"Tell me about this con of ye," he told her finally. It was fully dark now, the only points of light being the few lanterns far below them on deck. They were shielded from above so as to not betray the ships' location to spying eyes, but from the sparrows' nest their pools of light could be seen.

"I'm from an island just of the coast of Cayes," she said after a moment. "I grew up without father. Mama never told me why that was, until she died. She said that my father was the governor."

Jack waited, not wanting to interfere now she was telling the story.

"Life... wasn't easy. Most people there said I was too white, and I couldn't find a way to support myself. When I was really down on my luck, I went to the governor."

He saw the glint of her teeth - she was smiling in the dark.

"He wouldn't recognise me as his daughter of course, but his wife and sons began asking questions, so I finally told him that if he didn't give me money and a passage off the island, I'd make known I was his child."

Jack laughed quietly in the dark, trying to picture the exact moment. For the governor he imagined a man like governor Swann, pompous and spoilt, considerate of his reputation. Opposite him the woman here, used to a hard life, extracting money from him. The idea amused him greatly.

"And it worked?"

"It worked, she confirmed. But I could not go back." 

"So you tried it again."

"Yes," she smiled a little. "I found out quickly how to go about it. The man in question does not actually have to have a child like me - just the suggestion put out to the right people would be enough to ruin him, so if I didn't ask a ridiculously high price, most paid up quite easily. The beauty of it is that none of them would pursue the matter, for fear of the word getting out..." she trailed off.

"Except that it did not go so well the last time?" he suggested. She cringed with the memory of it, nervously fiddling with the flute in her hands. Jack wondered how bad it had been, for her to go from confident to anxious at the memory alone. 

She was silent for a long time, and Jack did not press her, mindful of her troubled state. He had been charmed by her open manner and confident swindles - something she had no doubt intended to happen - and the thought of her being abused bothered him. Not that he could do anything about it, but still. He did have a few morals concerning women, and one of the was that you Didn't Hit A Woman. Not even if she slapped you or found a clever way to blackmail you. And from the looks of her, someone had dedicated a bit of time to put that moral aside. 

After a few more moments, he offered her the bottle of rum. She took it with unsteady hands and took a long swig. 

So you're a rich woman now? he asked, taking the rum away again. One of her hands made a weak protesting gesture for the bottle.

I _was_, yes. She agreed. But the bastard took it all, she added bitterly. Jack gave her a sceptic look. She was staring off into the dark, the blanket pulled close around her. Just now, she seemed much more closed off, without the amiable air he had sensed earlier. Perhaps that air was the same manner he adopted sometimes, a way to breeze through life without getting scratched too much. He had always likened it to walking through the rain without getting wet. 

I don't believe ye, he said after a while. Of course she would not tell him if she had money. It made sense for her to leave that detail out. 

If not believing it made it untrue, I would not believe it either, she said after a while, the wry humour back in her voice. He chuckled at the way she defanged his accusation. Had she been defensive, he might have pressed the issue. 

the shout came from below. Can you take over the helm?

he hollered down. Then, to Janeen My apologies for leaving you here without my engaging company, love.

She chuckled softly, pointing at the bottle he was holding.   
Are you leaving that here, or should I go without that engaging company as well?

He gave her the bottle once more, grinning rakishly. As she lifted her face to drink, he got a good look at her slender neck and the dark bruises that were outlined on her light brown skin. On an impulse, he trailed a fingertip down the side of her neck, tracing the darker skin that sat there. She froze mid-swallow at the first touch, the bottle still up-ended against her lips. 

Focussed on the smooth skin under his fingers, Jack only realised that she was in distress when she began to tremble. When he took away his hand, she swallowed painfully and coughed a few times, wiping at teary eyes. 

But to his surprise, she did not reproach him. He idly wondered if that was because she was not raised to protect her virtue like high-bred ladies were, or if she was afraid to protest. Perhaps both. 

That bothered him just slightly. Jack never thought of himself as a person women were afraid of. Oh, he did his part to support the myth of the dangerous captain Sparrow, and he liked to unsettle people so he could keep the upper hand But for the most part he preferred women to be frank with him – even if that meant getting slapped – rather than to be afraid of angering him. It was a lot more fun to trade verbal barbs with a woman than to see her freeze up whenever he got close. He liked his women with a little spirit in them.

Thus unsettled, Jack swung his legs off the platform of the sparrows nest and climbed down the shrouding without a word. It was not until he had set foot on deck that he realised he'd left the rum with Janeen.

  


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Just tossing this out because it seems to be final, for better or worse. Still no clever chapter titles (suggestions anyone?) and still weird breaks for chaptering. This chapter is long because it is mostly one scene and I couldn't find a way to break it up, so I guess you're lucky.

**Rory4**: thank you. I hope you liked this chapter, since you find out a little more about Janeen.  


_Please review! I'd like to know if and what you like about this story, and what you think could make it better. "Come on now baby, come on!"_


	4. Stowaway chapter 4

STOWAWAY  
Chapter 4  


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That night captain Jack Sparrow stayed on deck, first to stand at the helm, later, when Cotton had taken over, to enjoy the night air and to sleep. A few times he fancied he heard the sound of a lonely flute on the wind, but Mister Cotton did not seem to hear it. Perhaps it was his imagination.

Come daylight, Jack found neither dead nor undead bodies on his deck. Admitting to himself that this was in fact something of a relief, he craned his neck to look up. Two bare feet hung daintily over the edge of the platform, as if their owner was not at all worried about the idea of being thirty-five metre above sea level. Jack had to suppress the mischievous desire to suddenly let the Pearl come about, to see if the woman might scream.

Somehow he suspected she wouldn't. She might be worried if he came to close, but if she was proud enough to sit in the mast all night to prove herself, she wouldn't scream. On the other hand, his crew _would_ certainly scream at him for that ungentle manner of waking them, so Jack abandoned the idea.

Chewing on some stale bread, he wondered if she had slept at all. The wind had been steady all through the night, propelling the Pearl Eastward with gentle strength. High up in the Sparrow nest, movements that were familiar and trusted on deck were exaggerated by the height.   
  
It was not long after that when he heard her shout something. 

he hollered back up, taking a step back and almost overbalancing against the gentle rolling of his ship. High up, Janeens' head appeared over the edge of the platform, laughing. 

I said— she called down, but the rest of her words faded in the breeze. She had quite a soft voice, not at all suitable for communication on deck. She tried again. land ahead! Her face was red now, both from the yelling and the hanging over the edge of the platform. That made him grin broadly. 

Aye! What side? he shouted back up. He saw her open her mouth to attempt to overcome the wind yet again, but then she closed it abruptly to simply point to the starboard side. 

Walking back to the helm, he consulted his maps and the new compass, and adjusted the course slightly. Then, fixing the wheel with the rope construction made specifically for that purpose, he walked back to the base of the mast. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he made a show of shouting something up to her – but put no breath behind the words. 

As expected, her face took on a questioning expression, and she called something back that he could not hear. In answer, he theatrically hollered his silent words up to her again.

She laughed then, making a frustrated gesture. Jack tried in vain to contain his grin. Apparently seeing this, her head disappeared from his sight, to be replaced by a pair of shapely legs a moment later. He went back to the helm, pretending that he wasn't peeking under her dress as she painstakingly climbed down the shrouding. While he and the crew usually came down in the quickest manner, using only hands, her wrist was injured. When she was finally on deck, she leant against the shrouding for a long moment, perhaps waiting for some vertigo to pass. 

After a short while she approached him, a bit hesitantly he thought. He'd hoped she had come to reproach him about his little joke, but apparently she was not quite so brave yet. To his amusement, Jack found he regretted this. For a moment he had thought to see a glimpse of manic hilarity in her eyes, but there was only wariness again now. 

Wha' did ye say there love? 'fraid I couldn't quite hear ye, he asked, his eyes not leaving the horizon. He fancied he heard a rush of breath that might have been a chuckle. 

I asked she fell silent for a moment, then recovered, if breakfast would be brought up to me, or if I should come down to get it.

That made him laugh, both the words and the manner in which she spoke them. As if she felt greatly daring. He wondered if he would be able to convince her that he had no intentions of hurting her or forcing himself upon her. Well, he decided optimistically, he had at least three weeks, and already her reservations were melting away in the face of his innate Captain-Jack-Sparrow-charm. 

Well, kind of. 

There's some here, lass, he slurred, pointing to a lump of bread lying on the bench near the helm. She craned her neck to look at it, hesitated for a moment, and then climbed the stairs to get to the level he was on. He grinned as she edged around him, not quite walking a half-circle, but certainly keeping her distance. 

Still 'fraid, lass?

No, I she trailed off. If you say I don't pass for a day under thirty, why do you keep calling me 'lass'? she asked all of a sudden, amusement in her voice. He looked up, amused by her distraction.

Wha, ye prefer to be 'lady'? he mocked. Nibbling on the bread, she shook her head. he suggested, tone turning lecherous, 

She snorted most unladylike, turning her face away from him.   
Simply 'Janeen' would do, she informed him, but not very vehemently.

If you ask Gibbs, I'm sure he'll be able to conjure up a spare shirt and breeches for you, love, he changed the subject. When she seemed surprised, he added: would make things a lot less draughty if you wanted to climb up to the sparrows' nest again, no?

A small, scandalized escaped her, and she left in a flurry of blue fabric. Seeing her go, Jack grinned to himself. 

  
It was well into the afternoon before he realised he had not seen Janeen since dawn. Had the silly lass managed to get herself tossed overboard by an irate crew member? He left the helm in the secure hands of Mister Cotton, swatted half-heartedly at the bloody parrot, and went below decks to find the woman.

His instinct led him to the galley, but she had not been seen there since early in the morning. He figured she would not venture in the space the crew shared, but he checked it all the same. He also checked the powder magazines, just to be sure. She had not seemed the type to blow them all to kingdom come, but it was always better to be sure. 

Finally, frustrated, he halted and racked his brain. He did not know much about her, but what did he know? She was on the run, had spent the night up in the sparrows' nest, and anxious around men.

Running his mind past that again, and considering where he had first found her, his feet set course for his own cabin.

The door was locked. 

Captain Jack Sparrow tried the handle again, considering the guts someone must have to lock the captain of a ship out of his own cabin. 

I'm _not_ amused! he said, almost, growled. Behind the door, nothing seemed to move.

He would have left it at that, knowing she was in there, most likely asleep. Except that his crew was watching, and he couldn't let them get the idea that the girl was getting away with more than they would get away with. It had worked that way with Anamaria, and it would work that way with Janeen. As soon as he started to treat them differently, the crew would make trouble. 

It was with that in mind that he drew his pistol and shot the lock open. Putting the pistol away again he pushed at the door, feeling it open without resistance. He had half expected her to stand behind it to kick it back into his face, but nothing so spectacular. He stepped inside and closed the door carefully, shielding the situation from the curious eyes of the crew.  
Janeen was sitting on the bed, back pressed into the corner, hair mussed with sleep. Her hands were curled around the edge of a cover, holding it over her lower body as if her life depended on it. She looked, Jack thought, very small and very worried.

One thing, love, that is really not done on a pirates' ship he told her amiably, walking closer to the bunk as he spoke, is to lock the captain out of his cabin.

"I'm...I...I couldn't sleep..." she trailed off as he sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned into her personal space. There were people walking around..." she sounded utterly miserable. 

"So ye decided to lock the captain out of 'is cabin?" He leaned even closer, bringing his face just a hands' length away from hers. He expected her to shy away further, but instead he saw something hardening in her face, a flash of defiance in her eyes. Part of him jumped up, pleased with this small show of spirit.

"My apologies," she said coolly. "I cannot sleep with the door open."

"That, love," he answered with a rakish grin, "is not my problem."

He expected her to answer something sharp, but she just pulled up an eyebrow and stared back. Jack studied her face, sensing that his proximity was unsettling her more than she was willing to show. Seemed like a runaway, this woman. He knew that some people just ran by nature, ran from anything and everything that rattled them. He did not consider himself to be one of them, but then, he had his Pearl. Had he not owned a ship, he knew he might very well show the same behaviour. 

She was still watching him, a mixture of irritation and trepidation in her eyes. She had, he realised, absolutely no idea what he intended to do. This made sense, since he didn't have one either. The tension between them solidified.

That made him grin, the simple absurdity of it, and on a whim he leant in to brush his lips against hers. She did not kiss back, but she did not pull away either. Her lips were warm and pliant, and he resisted the temptation to push her just a bit further. Breaking the kiss, he grinned his rakish grin, turned around, and left her to her bewilderment.

* * *

Still not sure where this is going. Bear with me here, I might find out.   
_Feedback is the only reward for the writer._

  
**Rory4**: thanks for your support. Nice to know people are reading J  
**Froda-baggins**: hope this chapter didn't put you off I'm still having fun with these characters. They're starting to warm up to each other a bit now.

  



	5. Stowaway chapter 5

**

STOWAWAY

**

Chapter 5

  


* * *

  
  
Captain Jack Sparrow regretted his actions by the time he stood at the helm again. Well, not regretted the action perhaps, but certainly he regretted the impact it would probably have on Janeen. He'd hoped to get her to relax, because that jittery manner around him made him uncomfortable, but now he had probably succeeded in making her even tenser. 

Oh well. Couldn't be helped. 

Not long after that someone brought him something to eat, and he spent a while going over their planned course together with Mister Gibbs. After that, most of the crew gathered around the helm to tell grand tales and drink rum. Jack hefted his bottle and called out his toast for freedom. The crew met this with uproarious laughter and applause, and everybody took swigs again. 

It was quite some time later that Jack leaned back, for once not the centre of conversation, and caught in his peripheral vision a flash of white moving half way up the mid-mast. Turning his head for a closer look, he thought he could see a figure climb the mast, pale shirt lit up by the moonlight. 

Looking around his crew again, he decided that this could only be Janeen. Well, at least she'd come out of the cabin. He had wondered if she would gather up the courage to venture out of there again. 

Scrambling up a little unsteadily, he left the circle of men and walked to the base of the mast. Looking up while taking another swig of rum, he could just see the figure disappear from his sight as it reached the Sparrows nest. 

And he did what he did when another ship disappeared at the horizon, as every pirate did – he gave chase. The bottle he shoved behind his sash, and he was up there as fast as his slightly inebriated state would allow. 

he greeted her, laying on the drunkenness a little thicker than it was in reality, Wanna hav'a drink?

To his surprise she seemed mildly amused by his appearance, not annoyed or frightened as he'd expected. In the faint moonlight he could discern that she had found different clothes and was now wearing too-large trousers and a wide cotton shirt. 

Why yes, please, she answered, and he handed her the bottle while he settled himself next to her on the platform. 

They sat in silence for a while, amiably passing the bottle back and forth. 

Had a good nap? he asked finally, grinning when she was jolted out of some trail of thought by his speaking. 

No—yes—not really, she stammered.

"Why can ye not sleep when the door ain't locked, lass?"  
Jack figured he probably knew the answer, but asked anyway. She did not look at him.

"I don't feel safe," she shrugged, clearly not inclined to elaborate. Knowing that she could not run, Jack pressed further.

"And why is that? Plenty o' people can sleep without the door locked."

"Just because I owe you for this voyage does not mean I owe you my life story!" she hissed, eyes fierce all of a sudden. Then, realising what she'd said and to whom, she grimaced and started to swing her legs over the edge. Jack grabbed hold of her upper arm to stop her.

"Don't run lass, yer on a ship, can't get far anyway," he slurred. When she stopped pulling, he softened his grip, but did not take his hand away.

This confused her, he could sense.  
"What I would like, lass, he began, is for you to stop behaving like I'm 'bout to harm you for existing."

She stared at him for a long moment, then turned her eyes away and nodded slowly, eyes fixed on some point ahead of her.  
"All right captain, I will try..."

Finding that quite enough difficult conversation for one night, Jack took a long swig of rum and handed the bottle to Janeen. He let his hand slide down her back and rested the knuckles on the platform, so that his arm was still lightly touching her back.

"Thought you were the one warning me for drinking when I was up here," she commented. Her back hardened, tensing away from his arm. Before he could answer, she up-ended the bottle to take a swig.

"I was, but ye seem like the kind'a person who knows when to stop," he grinned. "Which is more than I can say for most of me crew."

"Don't like to be caught unawares," she shrugged.

"Don't matter on a ship, does it lass?" he grinned. "No matter how aware ye are, there's nowhere to run to anyways."

To his surprise, she actually seemed to shrink at his words.  
"Don't keep saying that," she said in a small voice, "it makes me nervous. I don't know how you can stand it."

Jack laughed at that.  
"Love, the _Pearl_ is my escape! I can go anywhere the fancy takes me."

He offered her the rum again, and she took a long drink, as if to wash away the feeling. When she lowered the bottle, there was a wistful air to her glance.

"I can see how that would be pleasant."

He just nodded, and they sat in silence again. Knowing he needed his wits around her, Jack slowed his drinking, but Janeen did not. Soon he could feel the tension leaving her back, and she relaxed against his arm.

"'S nice up 'ere," she sighed finally, leaning back to look up to the stars. Jack supported her shoulders as she lay back, lower legs dangling over the other side of the platform. He was somewhat amused that she let him, without tensing up or shying away. Was that the alcohol acting, or had she really understood what he had told her earlier?

He grinned down on her, noticing that she was wearing a wide cotton shirt just as he was. To preserve modesty, under it she wore the now sleeveless bodice of her blue dress. To his surprise Jack found that in the worn, too-wide clothes she was infinitely more attractive than she had been in the dress. She did not seem to see him.

He sat silently, listening to the sailing sounds of his beloved Pearl, looking up to the stars. In his element.

  


* * *

  


This one is a tad short, but I had to choose between putting out one giant chapter, or chopping it off here. You can expect chapter 6 sometime soon. Oh, and I keep walking in to the feeling that there should be more of Sparrows' particular locomotion in the description, but since this is Jacks' point of view, it makes no sense to put it in. He doesn't even notice his own movements I'm sure, so you'll all have to imagine the motions as he moves. 

  
Yay, **REVIEWS**!

**Chu-ching**: so nice to hear from you again. I can't begin to express how motivating your messages are! I hope Janeen will continue to live up to expectations – she's certainly put me before a few surprises so far  
**Peachness**: well, here you go And more soon to follow. *grin*  
**Katja Siem**: Thank you. I do like Jack the way he is here – he just seems to be doing whatever seems like a good idea at the time. *smile*  
**Starlight8**: thanks! Personally I worry that Janeen is becoming a little whingy, but actually that is good. She'll remedy the feeling in the next few chapters anyway *grin*  
**Sky is Blue**: I hope this was soon enough for your tastes *grin*  
**Sinopa**: thanks! And I'm writing very fast actually, a lot faster than I usually do. Next chapter should be there by the end of the weekend


	6. Stowaway chapter 6

STOWAWAY   
Chapter 6

(still no clever chapter titles and you might want to click back to reread the last bit of the last chapter, because we're picking up right where we left off.)

  


* * *

  
  
  
After some time an old sailing song came to him, and he sang it under his breath, the Spanish words coming to him easily. Janeen smiled vaguely, eyes unfocussed, no longer worried about his proximity. 

Jack decided he might have to get her drunk more often.

"Where's your flute?" he asked her. When she did not react, he trailed his fingertips along her shoulder to get her attention. She shook herself, giving him a bleary look.

Where's yer flute, love?

She blinked a few times, obviously having a bit of trouble processing this, and then slid a hand underneath the sash she used as a belt, producing the flute. Jack took it from her and put it to his lips experimentally, only to produce a wailing, off-key tone. 

Janeen giggled, and he did it again just to see that expression on her face one more time. Then, with a daring he was sure she would not have displayed while sober, she reached up to snatch the instrument from his fingers. 

"No' like tha, see?" she slurred before putting the flute to her lips, and produced a few quick, almost stumbling notes. Then, letting her arms drop, she sighed deeply. Jack watched her in amusement, hoping that some of her current mood would carry over into the next day.

All of a sudden she struggled to sit upright, hands flailing as she tried to grab hold of the mast. She was restless now, as if she'd suddenly remembered something of great importance. Jack grinned and helped her up.

"What is it, lass?"

She gave him a nonplussed look, and then the anxiety returned to her.

"I--I have to get 'way... t'blud what if they catch me.. Need to run..."

"Who are they, love?"

She made a frustrated gesture with her good hand, as if he really should know whom she was referring to.

"'T... blood hav to get away..."

Jack shook his head.  
"You're on a ship lass, but we're already sailing away from Portana."

Her mouth formed as if she was about to ask something, but she closed it again.

"I think you should get on deck and catch some sleep," Jack decided. Her relaxed mood seemed to have passed, and in her drunk anxiety she moved decidedly unbalanced. And he was getting a little worried about all this talk of blood.

"I think I wan'... I wan stay 'ere," she answered, one arm wrapped around the mast as if to prevent him from pulling her away.

"Janeen, you need some sleep," he tried to persuade. She shook her head vehemently.

"Donneed sl..sleep," she insisted, gesturing wildly. "Lock needs..." she trailed off, shoulders hunched.

"Say what, you can sleep in my cabin, and I'll tell the crew to stay out of there, eh?"

She looked up, but he could tell she wasn't convinced.

"All right, and I'll sleep on deck as well," he added grudgingly. Her eyes, for the moment eerily focussed for someone so drunk, bore into his for a long moment. Then she nodded slowly.

It took quite a bit of time to get her safely down the mast, and when she was finally on deck she was so unsteady that Jack had to guide her to the cabin. She crawled into the bed as she was, curled up on her side, and let out a deep sigh. Jack had to bite his tongue to keep himself from suggesting that if she was going to use that little of the bed, he might as well join her. She probably wouldn't take that well in her current state.

Captain Jack Sparrow picked up the lantern and made for the door. There he glanced back and reflected with a grin that for a person claiming she couldn't sleep unless the door was locked, she seemed to be in a deceptively deep slumber already.

He returned to his crew, where the talk had descended into slurry recollection of exaggerated tales. To his surprise, Jack found he was not in the mood for it, and though he joined the circle of men, he did not join the conversation. New bottle of rum in hand, he fell to philosophy.

Why did he just give up his own cabin, the luxurious privilege of the captain, just so that a stowaway could sleep? Stowaways were an inconvenience to get rid off at the earliest opportunity. So why did he even speak to her? And more puzzling, why did he care about whether or not she was at ease around him? He up-ended the bottle for a long swig.  
  
Because, the answer came to him, he missed Ana Maria. She might have left him, but she had been the one to stand at his side when things were difficult after he'd gained back the Pearl, silent but supportive. She had been there to wake him when the nightmares took their toll. 

And he supposed that her running really meant that she liked him as much as he liked her. Perhaps more. When he had first met her, Ana Maria had just freed herself from an abusive relationship, and he was aware that she'd sworn never to be tied down again. So they had shared dreams and drunken kisses, their love for the sea and on a few occasions his bed, but he had well aware that he could not ask for more than that, and he never had. Then why had she run? He remembered one morning, the last time they had slept together, that she was still there in the morning, had not disappeared back to her own cabin as was her wont. 

He had thought nothing of it. Had reached for her, buried his nose in her hair, and slumbered on. 

The very next port she had left, claiming to be armoured by a lad so dull-witted that he doubted she would be able to stand him for even a week, and he had not tried to stop her. How could he? He'd understood how it worked from the beginning; Anamaria could not be caged. He'd suspected that her own feelings had scared her into running, and sad though he was about her leaving, he had understood. He still did.

But it was not her presence in his bed that he missed the most, it was her sharp humour and fearless femininity. The way she would laughingly punch his arm whenever his claims got too outlandish, and the way she had never once been hesitant to deny him something she did not want to give him. 

He wished that Janeen could behave like that, show a little guts, even as he understood that she was traumatised. He just liked his women with a bit of spirit, it made life interesting.

Captain Jack Sparrow shook his head slowly. Just listen to him talk. Since when was Janeen 'his' woman? Not that he would not like to have her, but he'd seen a glint in her eyes that said she had fought to be her own, and would be nothing but her own.

Thinking of Ana Maria again, that thought made him laugh silently. What was it with him and women like that? Nothing was easy like it was with the women he kept company with in ports. They needed time and careful manoeuvring on his side. But he had to admit their company was ever so much more enjoyable once they warmed up. 

And stowaway or not, sober or drunk, traumatised or not, warm up was what Janeen was doing. Part of him relished the challenge of making sure of that. The other part was cautioning him about getting involved with someone with a shady past. That made him grin again, because just about everybody he knew – perhaps with the exception of Elizabeth Swann – had a shady past. And if Janeens' past was more shady than most, well, he'd just have to find out about that, wouldn't he?

He drank some more, and looked at the stars, and felt once again perfectly content. Five months he had had his Pearl back, and life consisted of endless days of good bounties and fair wind. 

Yes, life was good. Knowing Cotton and Gibbs to mind the helm, Jack drank until his thoughts were pleasantly indistinct, and then he slept.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Yes, yes, I know. More about Janeen. As I said in a reply to a review (before this chapter was out, mind you):

_It's just that the perspective is a little limiting in this - I can only expose things through Jack, and he just does not have a whole lot of reason to go digging just yet. That, and the fact that Janeen certainly isn't going to volunteer things, make this a bit difficult. However, the next chapter is going to raise a bunch of questions, and I'm sure Jack will find the opportunity to pry some answers out of her!_

Reviews!  
**sky is blue**: glad you're still with me ;-)  
**Froda-baggins: **see my answer to you above. *grin*  
**Erica: **I don't mind either language, but I think my other reviewers would be interested in reading what you wrote to me *grin*   
Glad you're enjoying this, and please do give me your guesses for Janeens' past. It's interesting for me to know how much and how well I've exposed, and what I've said outright and what I've implied. Go on, speculate. That goes for everybody of course!

  


Call to all my readers: fx: sets in a bad rendition of Thunder  
Gimme some reviews! Gimme gimme etc.  
Silly as that may be, I'd be most interested in hearing what you think of the story in general, and of the original character so far. This is the closest to mystery/intrigue I've ever written, and I'd be interested in hearing what your opinions and guesses are so far

  
Cheers,  
Arwen


	7. Stowaway chapter 7

STOWAWAY

Chapter 7  
  


* * *

  
I know it's not going too fast right now; I'm nearing exam week and Law demands my attention. Motivation for this story is leaking away fast (I even ventured back into X-men yesterday) so I hope I can keep it up and draw it to a conclusion sometime soon. Actually, I hope I can work out the plot sometime soon, that would be nice. Jack and Janeen want to go different ways, and the easiest way to end is also the one I was trying to avoid  


* * *

The sky in the East was already beginning to turn indigo when Captain Jack Sparrow was awoken ungently by a sudden rush of pounding rain. Bellowing a drunken curse, he climbed to his feet and staggered down the stairs. Holding on to the wall for support, he fumbled for the door of his cabin and burst in, eager to be out of the rain. 

To his surprise it was dark in there, but he did not stop to think how that was possible. Jack kept hold of the door to keep his balance, and struggled to get out of his boots while remaining upright. When they were finally off, he dropped them next to the door and tried to remember how many steps it was to the bed. He had never slept here often, and hardly at all since he had gotten the Pearl back, so the memory was unsteady at best. He swayed a moment in the dark, then, arms outstretched for balance he carefully began to walk toward the other side of the room.   
"Blazes!" he cursed under his breath, stubbing his toe on the edge of the bunk. The room was smaller than he remembered. Setting his knee against the bed to keep his precarious balance he took off his sash and soaked shirt and felt along the mattress to find a free spot. The bed was warm.

He wondered for a moment how that could be, and swept his arm over the surface. A small distance away he the felt the curled up body of a woman, soft and pliant in her sleep. 

Ana Maria? But no, she had left, had she not? He swayed for a moment, trying to remember. No, Ana Maria had left, he was certain of it. This was someone else

and she was in the middle of the bed.

Jack drunkenly debated with himself what to do, and quickly decided he wanted to sleep in his own bed. It wasn't as if he was kicking her out.

Teetering on one leg for a precarious moment, he slid onto the bed, nestled himself against her back, and moved her a little more toward the wall so he had more space. She slept through all of this, though he could feel the muscles in her back tense for a moment. 

When he had settled the closeness of her filled his senses, and the warm scent suddenly reminded him who this was. Janeen.

Though he was tired, he took a moment to enjoy the situation fully. They were close together, her back against his chest, her head just under his chin. Her arms were bare, her skin soft against his own. The warm, feminine scent of sea and sweat and woman assaulted his nostrils, made more vivid by the rum he'd drunk. Unable to resist, he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her against him a little more closely, rubbing his cheek against her hair. 

It had been some time since he had fallen asleep next to a woman - in ports one had to be better guarded than that - and he found that he had missed the sensation. Already half asleep again, he reached down to pull a cover up over the both of them, and sank into a deep slumber.

  
  
  
Captain Jack Sparrow awoke from a hard knock against his collarbone. Something was struggling in his arms, and in a reflex, he held on tighter. As he tried to gather his wits, he realised that the person he was holding was fighting him, kicking and struggling. He felt the hit in his collarbone again, and found that it was the back of her head as she slammed it back, aiming for his nose and missing. 

"'Ey!" he growled. The movement stopped, but he felt a shudder travel along her spine. That sensation brought him to full awareness faster than a shout could have. Opening his eyes, he remembered he was holding Janeen. She was curled up tightly, pressed close to the wall by his body, and evidently frightened by the confining position. He let go of her, moving back a little to give her space. 

As he let go of her hands, she struggled to turn, kicking his shins in the process. Her arm flailed dangerously close to his face, and he grabbed her by the elbow. Before he could let go, she had launched into another fit of panicked struggles. Startled, Jack pushed himself up to grab her other elbow, trying to gain leverage on her. 

"Oy! Calm down!" he bellowed, leaning his weight over her in an effort to contain. When she finally stilled, eyes huge and dark, he was sprawled half over her, both of them out of breath. To his surprise her face was contorted with fury, not fear. She tried to say something, but had not the breath. Jack grinned, trying not to focus on the feeling of soft breasts pressed against his chest with each heaving breath.  
"Now that's not very nice, love. Kicking the captain."

She jerked, wanting to attack him again, and he moved her arms to hold her elbows over her head, pressing down on them firmly. Gritting her teeth in utter frustration, Janeen spat "You had NO right!"

"What right does a captain not have on his own ship, lass?" he lilted, rather enjoying the position they were in. That, and the fact that she was finally showing some spirit.

"You said I could be alone here!" she hissed. Jack was amused by her absolute conviction. Perhaps she had not been as drunk as he had thought.

"So I did love," he smirked, "but then you begged me to stay, remember?" he lied easily with the certitude of a born liar. It was gratifying to see a hint of uncertainty in her eyes, just for a moment. Briefly, his thoughts explored what could have happened had she really begged him to stay, but he quickly abandoned that train of thought when his body threatened to betray him. Morals could be bloody inconvenient at times.

"I did no such thing!" she snarled, and Jack had to admit that in her anger she was more alive and more attractive then he had ever seen her before. 

"Now how would you know? You drank half a bottle of rum last night. I had to carry you in here!" Again that brief flash of horror in her eyes. It made his smirk just slightly more triumphantly. The beads in his hair slapped the side of her face.

"I never forget things when I'm drunk," she spat, jerking her face away from the beads. "I _walked_ in here, and _you_ promised to sleep on deck." 

"...and you find that enough reason to kick me?" he asked mildly, changing the subject. He could tell that she was calming down, getting more rational, and that any moment now she would be inquiring as to the reason that he was still practically on top of her. He couldn't very well stay as he was after she'd told him to take his hands of her person, so he'd have to keep her off-balance enough not to realise.

"I had a bad dream, I was startled," she said, sounding defeated. He could feel her muscles relax as she gave up trying to escape. 

"You did? What was it about?" he murmured, his tone serious. When she actually considered his question, not immediate replied that he had nothing to do with that, Jack leant in to nuzzle her earlobe. This caused a slight hitch in her breath, and Jack grinned into the skin of her neck. Hearing no protest, he went on to kiss the tender skin just behind her ear. She let out a long, shaky sigh, and his attention was once again drawn to the feeling of her breasts being pressed against his chest. For a moment he was tempted to expand his explorations, but no - mustn't press too far, he told himself. 

His hold on her arms had gentled to a negligent caress, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin on the inside of her arms. There was no resistance in her posture now. He trailed kisses along her jaw line, working toward her mouth. Her eyes were closed, a tensed expression on her face. Then, his lips just inches away from hers, he asked her another question.

"What happened in Portana, Janeen?"

  
  


* * *

  
Well I didn't intend to end like that, but if I didn't I had a 3000-word chapter, which seemed a bit excessive. The second half of the conversation still needs a bit of work anyway.  
My request from the previous chapter still stands:

_I'd be most interested in hearing what you think of the story in general, and of the original character so far. This is the closest to mystery/intrigue I've ever written, and I'd be interested in hearing what your opinions and guesses are so far_

Cheers,  
Arwen  



	8. Stowaway chapter 8 : interlude

  


**Interlude**

_(chapter 8)_  
  
As I'm in exam week right now, the next chapter will have to wait a bit before I have time to rewrite until I'm satisfied. I do have this snippet though, which you might appreciate for the special thing it is – 190 words from Janeen. It was going to be 100 words, but her muse is wordy. Though I had not intended to do this, I am giving you a little insight that Jack is _not _getting. Consider yourself lucky grin  
  
  


* * *

  
She forced down panic. This time, reality was not as bad as the nightmare she had woken from. For one thing, this man was not heavy. Oh, heavy enough to pin her to the bed and hold her there, but not so heavy that he smothered her. A situation she could work with.   
For another thing, he held her pinned down, but did not seem about to do anything more.   
Who was he? She had been wondering that for days now. What did he want? He leaned in again, his nose just inches away from hers. A habit, or a calculated move to unnerve her? Perhaps both. To her frustration, knowing that did not stop it from working.  
He kissed her throat and she lay still, not wanting the touch on her still-sore neck (but it_ felt_ good, her treacherous body insisted), not daring enough to stop him. That made new anger flare up, anger at her own cowardice, at the captain for confronting her with it. What did he _want? _Answers again? She bit down on the anger and concentrated on what it was he would want to hear.   
  


* * *

  
**Reply to reviews**:  
Sorry for those who get impatient! As you (and Jack..) are finding out, Janeen and the truth are casual acquaintances. There's a few stages she has to go through and it is slow going, because you are exposed at the same time Jack is. I did not intend this to be quite so frustrating... My apologies.

For those who wish Janeen would stop being pathetic – ah, but I am trying to stick to my realism here, and someone in her situation would almost certainly be a tad twitchy. Even if she lost her direct fear of Jack she would remain cautious for a while – she is, after all, a stowaway on his ship, and completely at his mercy. She's hardly going to want to annoy or anger him! So you may prefer spunky girl, but she's not, and she wouldn't be. It's not about guts, but about survival  
To Léaglen, who thinks Jack is making too _much _progress – you have to remember that you are looking through Jacks' glasses here. Not everything that looks like progress actually IS progress. And I think we've established by now that Janeen acts a bit when it suits her  
  
More will be up by next weekend I hope, and after that I have a week off and should make some real progress. 

  
  


Cheers,  
Arwen Lune

  
  



	9. Stowaway chapter 9

STOWAWAY   
Chapter 9  


  


* * *

  
Janeen jerked up, almost breaking his hold before he could tighten it again. Her eyes blazed with fury and, he was quite certain of it, fear. He jerked his head back as she reared up, hissing "You have _no_ right to dig! Leave it alone!"

Jack shifted his legs so that her knees were pinned more firmly against the mattress. "What right does a captain not have on his own ship, lass?" he repeated his early words. Instead of defeating her, they seemed to make her angrier. She fought against his hold, eyes sharp with rage. Jack leant weight on her elbows, effectively pinning her down, and waited until she stilled again, out of breath.

"Whether or not I have the right to do something _I_ will decide, and I still intend to find out what it is you are hiding from me," he told her. "My crew will hold _no_ secrets from me."  
He waited, not lessening his grip on her, until she answered his question.

"Two of the governors' men caught me and held me for a day," she finally let out with a tight voice, her eyes closed. "Do I need to spell it out for you? They weren't gentle."

From any other he might have thought this to be exaggerated, perhaps to gain his sympathy, but as hard-won as the confession was, he believed her. 

"And how did you escape?" he asked, remembering the blood on her dress. She pressed herself against the mattress as if the question started her.

"By by being a lot more violent than they expected," she said finally, cautiously as if she feared his reaction to this. 

And that is why he sent a ship after you? he went on, watching her closely. In her eyes flashed a moment of pure terror, quickly covered up by cool indifference. She shrugged nonchalantly, but Jack wasn't fooled. He might have felt triumph at the fact that he had finally squeezed some truth out of her, but she looked small and miserable now. The victory brought him little joy. 

See? Was that so hard? he drawled, leaning in a last time, his hair curtaining both their faces. There was anxiety in her eyes, but he knew that for once it was not because of his closeness. Evidently she had not been aware of the ship that had followed them since Portana. It was out of sight now, left behind by the faster _Pearl_, but he had little doubt that it was still following them, perhaps waiting for them to seek port. 

  
Her voice shook.

Yes, ship of the line, white sails, he said, sobering as he felt her muscles contract in sudden panic. Not to worry though, we left them behind days ago. No ships' as fast as my Pearl! he tried to assure her. As she seemed to calm down somewhat, he shifted his weight onto his elbows, letting go of her arms. 

What I wonder he drawled when she did not move, Is why you are worried. I seem to recall you assuring me that that governor would not send ships after you.

she flashed a forced grin, it appears I was wrong.  
She stretched her arms, joints crackling, and then placed her hands against his chest as if to push him away.

I've stopped trying to kick you. Now could you please get off? she seemed exasperated, lightly pushing against his chest. 

Jack looked down on her as if only now noticing their respective positions, and assumed a hurt expression.   
What, you don't like me?

That quietened her for a moment, and that made Jack grin. Evidently the truth was too daring to say, but she could not get herself to lie altogether.

You're not afraid of me anymore, are ye? he asked when she kept silent. Her eyes narrowed.

she admitted after a moment, eyes closing as if she could not face him as she spoke. You are the first man I've met who touches a person without wish to either hurt them or.. or have them.

That made him smile inwardly, pleased that she had come to that conclusion. However, a sudden flight of fancy made him grin lecherously, leaning closer to whisper in her ear.

Oh, but I'd have you I would

Her hands pushed against his chest more firmly, this time definitely trying to push him off. He ignored it, leaning back up to look her in the eyes.  
Only I won't, not unless you're also in favour of the game. Savvy?

Uncertainty entered her eyes again, and she removed her hands, giving up her futile attempt. Some emotion he could not place coloured her gaze, and he was trying to give name to it when he suddenly felt her fingers dig into his ribs. With a startled yelp he pushed himself away off of her, and not a moment later he found himself on the floor next to the bed. The thump of his landing resounded through the cabin.

Over the edge peeked Janeen, her face betraying both amusement and startled surprise at the effectiveness of her actions. It was that last element that made Jack forget his first furious reaction and see the humour of the situation. 

he grinned. You could 'ave just said 'savvy', ye know.

To his delight she chuckled deeply, eyes closed and shaking her head as if she could not believe what he just said. His point made, Jack climbed to his feet and started to get dressed. 

When he pulled his shirt over his head, he heard her whisper.

You're a strange man

"And you..." he pulled his shirt down and gestured vainly in the air, trying to find words for the sentiment, "are a bloody foolish woman for putting yourself at the mercy of a pirate." 

"There are those who would say it would be unwise to refuse him," she said softly. Then, with more spirit: Besides, I would have locked the door if you hadn't shot the lock open.

It was that spirit that made him laugh heartily.  
I'm sure ye would 'ave, love.

so I didn't put myself at your mercy, she continued as if this was important to her. And certainly I did not she trailed off, then her eyes lit up again as another thought occurred to her. Or rather, I did, by getting onto your ship. But I didn't exactly have much in the way of alternatives.

What, you mean you did not willingly choose the presence of my radiant company? Darling, you wound me, he faked shocked sorrow, arms spread out wide. He grinned again at her expression, amusement and something else warring in her eyes. She made to say something, then changed her mind and held her tongue.

Though it was no doubt unintended by her, it made Jack burn with curiosity for what she had deemed unsuitable to speak. He'd wanted her to relax in his presence, and now she finally did, he found she could be pleasant company. Even if he did not get to 'have' her, as she put it. She was interesting.  
  
Shaking his head at his own thoughts, he stepped into his boots and left the cabin before that thought could go any further. 

  


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Hey! I survived exam week, spent 5 days recovering from total stress-induced exhaustion, and then inspiration returned. Glory be! I shaped this chapter into something resembling order, wrote a bit of the next chapter, and a completely loose end-of-the-story snippet of the characters in a stage I'm going to have to take them first. It's weird, but it's such a sweet scene that I feel all motivated to go on writing to get them there.

Thanks for your continuing support; it's heartwarming to know people are still following this despite the occasional hiccoughs in my writing.

PS: I've been drawn back into LotR fandom (by my Noldor character tickling me about some major problem of hers that needs exposure) and The Mummy fandom (by a really nice review) but I'll honestly try to continue on this one as well. Promise.

Cheers,  
Arwen Lune (who _thinks_ she passed her exams)  



	10. Stowaway chapter 10

STOWAWAY  
Chapter 10

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Hey you lot! I'm feeling a bit lonely out here If you read this, let me know how you like it, please?  


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It was not until Jack had taken over the helm that another question surfaced. Why, if Janeen claimed not to be able to sleep behind an unlocked door, had he been able to drunkenly stumble in and climb in bed with her, all without disturbing her sleep? Of course she had been sleeping off a rather large amount of rum, especially for someone so petite, but that did not explain it entirely. What was also unexplained, and somewhat disturbingly so, was the drunken rambling of blood. 

Or rather, he did not think that a governor would send a ship after a slip of a girl who had blackmailed him fo, as she had claimed, a price that had not been that high. Hence, she was either lying about what she had done in Portana, or she had made an escape so bloody that the governor was willing to spare a ship for her capture. Though he knew she lied well and easily, the second theory fitted better with the image he had of her in his mind. 

This meant she was probably a killer, unlikely as that seemed when looking at the girl. Then again, he knew all about the usefulness of appearing less dangerous than you really were... And who was to say that she did not have more in her than she had shown so far? He wondered if he should let out that he knew, or if that would unsettle her again just when she seemed to have gained some measure of faith in her safety. 

  
Not long after that he saw Janeen coming on deck. She wandered around, eating sea biscuit and looking a little forlorn; until she found that no one was in the Sparrows' nest yet. Jack grinned as a relieved expression coloured her face, and she quickly climbed upward to take the lookout. He was pleased that she had found some way to make herself useful on board. 

Captain Jack Sparrow spent the day simply enjoying the wind in his face and the sounds of his beloved ship under him. Their course led them through barely patrolled waters, so he could lean back and enjoy rather than having to be on guard constantly. He put the rope construction on the wheel to keep it straight, and sat back in the lazy chair he had arranged to be there specifically for afternoons like this. He closed his eyes and let his mind drift. Life was good.

Until something small and hard hit his chest and bounced onto the deck with a tinkle. Jumping up with a start, Jack looked around wildly. There was no one with him. Then he became aware of a faint sound, something he had half-consciously heard but ignored.

someone called, and he looked around again; found most of his crew lazing about in the shade of the foremast, and finally looked up.  
Janeen, clearly tired of shouting, simply gestured sharply to starboard. Jack saw nothing. He looked up again, uncertain what there was, but she gestured again, more impatiently this time. He grabbed the spyglass and looked again. 

Yes, there was _something_. A dot on the horizon. He could just barely recognise it as a ship.

Gibbs! You lazy dog, get over here and take the helm! he bellowed. When the older man hurriedly scrambled up, Jack began climbing the shrouds, wishing to take a better look at this ship. Was it the navy, or a merchant sailor? The trick was to decide whether to engage or get away _before_ the other ship had recognised the Pearl. Though in possession of a fully human crew now, the ship still had her reputation as ghost ship. More often than not, Jack found that a disadvantage.

Janeen said nothing when he arrived on the platform. He held up the spyglass, giving her a questioning look, and she raised her arm to point over his shoulder into the direction the ship was. He nodded and raised the spyglass to his right eye.  
It _was_ a merchant, a moderately sized ship that seemed to lay light in the water. Jack liked to see that. It usually meant that the merchant had just sold his cargo, or was on his way to buy new. Either way, there would be riches aboard.

"What is it?" Janeen asked. Jack thought she sounded a little worried. 

"A nice fat merchant, lass," he answered. He gave her the spyglass so she could have a look.

"Are you going to go after it?" she asked softly, not taking her eyes off the ship in the distance. 

"Yes love", he nodded. "Nice fat prey, it'll cheer up the lads no end."  
Janeen looked worried. He wondered if the idea of the upcoming fight concerned her. It wasn't as if she had to participate...  
"Better get ready", he said as she returned the spyglass. "Up here is not a good place to be if they return fire."

She nodded. "I'll come down when we get near. When will that be?"

Jack grinned. "They're light, but we're fast. With this wind, around sunset."

Back on deck he ordered the men to prepare for a raid, changed course to chase the merchant, and opened a bottle of rum. Not that we intended to get drunk, but Captain Jack Sparrow had a reputation to hold up. He found that raids went a lot easier if he played the unpredictable madman. Offering passing crewmen a swig of rum so that the bottle looked suitably empty, he stood at the helm and watched the merchant ship grow closer.   
It was a Dutchman, he could now see. An elegant, new-looking ship called the Egelantier. That should prove interesting, because as multilingual as he was, his tongue kept tripping over Dutch. With any luck though, they would not know the Pearl, and since they were currently flying British colours, this could be an easy one.

Then again, it might not be. Sometimes, when he stood alone at the helm just before the sun rose and the crew was still asleep, he asked himself why they still raided ships. The riches of Isle de Muerta were sufficient to sustain them for a long time to come. But at times like this, when they were gaining on a merchant, times when the blood pumped and the wind rushed through his hair and made the rigging whistle, he remembered why he did it. It was the sheer thrill of the chase.

Prepare the guns, lads!

Janeen came up the stairs to the helm, looking out to the ship they were gaining on now. There was tension in her face, but at the same time he could not help noticing how well she took to the sailing life. Her stance was easy, balance adjusting to the rolling of the ship without effort, and her arms hung down relaxed, not with the tension he had seen before. Apparently his little discussion of that morning had cleared up some other things as well, because she now did not hesitate to stand with her back to him. 

A Dutchman? she wondered, and after a moment, more to herself than to him, must be carrying spices

Aye, we could do with some, our food is starting to taste bloody bland, Jack grinned, and she smiled back. 

Waiting for the other ship to come into range, he sang softly to himself.  
We're devils and black sheep, really bad eggs, Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho

The merchant was still sailing as it had done, though there was commotion on deck. Clearly people were worried, and with right. When he deemed them close enough, he called out more commands to his eager crew.  
Fly the jolly roger! Run out the guns! Let's do this cleanly, lads!

As the men scurried to carry out the orders, he turned to Janeen.   
You, lass, would do well to get into my cabin and not come out until I come for you, aye?

She hesitated, hands fluttering restlessly. 

I—I don't want to be closed in if it comes to fighting she whispered, and he understood that sentiment. She wasn't the kind of person who could sit hidden while her fate was decided by others. She certainly wasn't the kind of person who could wait in a cabin until either friend of foe came to fetch her. Yet that was exactly what he was asking her to do.

As they watched, the merchant sailors suddenly became very busy with dropping canvas. The Dutch ship surrendered without a shot.  
Jack admitted that he might have done the same. The ship was beautiful and in fine shape; it would have broken his heart to open fire on it. At the helm he saw a man looking at them through a spyglass. 

Realising just seconds too late what the man was seeing, he grabbed Janeen by the shoulder to spin her around, hissed Get off-deck! Do you want murder _and _piracy to your name? and pushed her to the stairs. She stumbled, bewildered by his sudden actions, and fell. 

Get yourself off-deck, lass! he thundered. I don't want them thinking you can be used as leverage to get to me! 

Startled but obeying, she clambered to a crouch and scampered down the stairs, hopefully out of sight. Jack had no time to pay more attention to it.   
Prepare to board! Big Mick and Paolo stay aboard the Pearl, the rest o' you come with me to take control!

  


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Aha, we get to the pirate action at last *grin*

My very great thanks go out to Léaglen, who keeps reviewing just when I think Bugger it all, why do I even write this stuff. Please, DO keep telling what you think is good and what isn't. This story isn't above criticism! 

The next chapter is written, but quite complicated emotionally and I think I'm going to lobby someone into helping me with it. It may or may not be posted before Friday.

  
  


Cheers,  
Arwen  



	11. Stowaway chapter 11

STOWAWAY 

Chapter 11

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It was, Jack reflected, always a good idea to leave two members of the crew aboard the Pearl. Though the Egelantier had apparently surrendered, there was a short fight when they boarded the Dutch ship. It was short because Jack managed to inform the other captain, while fighting the man, that a cannon was aimed at the prow of his ship just below the waterline. Though he would regret to sink so lovely a ship, he made it clear to the man that the order to fire would be given if the fighting did not cease instantly. That had called the Dutchman to reason, and he had called the strange-tongued command to surrender. 

By then it was dark, and Jack set some of his crew to explore the ship by the faint light of their sparse lanterns. If they managed to find anything of worth in these conditions, he would be very impressed indeed.

As he had expected, the bounty was somewhat meagre. A few small bales of various spices, and two bottled of brandy. Since he was reasonably certain there was gold aboard, Jack pressed the Dutch crew, swaggered about, joked, wheedled and eventually threatened until one of the men squeaked.   
When a moment later a heavy box was carried on deck, Jack was all grins. 

"Well done!" he called out. "lads, cut down the mainsail, will you?"

The Dutch captain watched him with barely concealed anger. Jack ignored it for the moment, waiting for Gibbs to put the box down in front of him. Eying the heavy lock, he extended a hand toward the Dutch captain.   
"Keys," he demanded cheerfully. After a long moment, the man reluctantly handed them over. Jack opened the box and whistled at the contents. 

"Hat," he said, repeating the hand gesture. The Dutch captain seemed baffled, and to Jacks' amusement, even more reluctant than he had been about the key.  
"Don't make this any harder man, just give me your hat!" Jack exclaimed. When he'd received the thing, he dug both hands into the gold pieces in the chest, and filled the hat with what he came up with.  
"That," he said to the other captain, should cover a new sail."

The man nodded vaguely, stupefied by the unexpected turn of events. Jack slammed the box shut and gestured at Gibbs and Whittle to take it away.   
"Lads! Take the sail over to the Pearl, we're done here!" he called to the rest of his crew. It was close to midnight, and already looked forward to the celebration they would have shortly. 

Captain Jack Sparrow made an extravagant bow to the Dutch captain, tried not to trip over the strange vowel sounds when he wished him "een goede reis", and returned to his Pearl. Back at the helm he called out commands to raise canvas, and not long after that the Dutch ship was but a faint shadow on the dark waters. 

"What did you go and do that for, Captain?" Gibbs asked. Jack looked at his first mate, then back to the horizon, and tried to form an answer. He gestured in the air as if trying to draw words from the night air. Gibbs waited, knowing his captain.

"That man loved that ship," he said eventually. "Couldn't let them take it away from him because of me."

Gibbs grinned. "Yer getting soft at heart, cap."

"May be," Jack shrugged. "But we didn't really need the money anyway."  
He stared at the horizon again, eyes drawn to the near-invisible line between moon-reflecting sea and starlit sky. Somehow it brought an earlier conversation to his mind.

"Would you go knock on my cabin door, tell Janeen it's safe to come out?"   
Gibbs went.

Captain Jack Sparrow contemplated the idea that he had gone soft, and if that were so, if he minded. He found he didn't, if going soft meant you didn't kill when you didn't had to and didn't ruin men who deserved sparing. But if you weren't pirating indiscriminately, who deserved mercy and who didn't? He was far too sober to think that over, Jack decided. 

"Captain?" Gibbs' voice sounded from mid-deck, "she's not openin' the door!"

"Ne'ermind!" he called back, "probbly asleep, I'll go meself. Mister Cotton, come take over the helm."

But would she be? he wondered as he came down the stairs. Would she still be asleep after all that racket on deck, not to mention Gibbs' thunderous knocking? Perhaps she just didn't want to come out.

"Oh Janeen?" he grinned in a sing-song voice, "the fighting and stuff's all over...."  
When no answer followed, he opened the door. She wasn't there. He checked all the closets just the same, remembering where he'd first found her, but she was nowhere to be found. The bedclothes, however, were moulded in the shape of a now absent curled-up body.

Jack walked out of the cabin and called two of his crew members to him.  
Search the whole ship, cabins to hold. I want to know if the woman is still aboard, he ordered quietly. When they had gone, he leaned against the railing and stood looking out over the sea for a while. 

Was she gone? He was surprised at the possibility that she'd thrown her luck in with men who had just been robbed – men who would surely contact the navy as soon as possible. To his surprise he was also displeased that she had decided to jump ship. Hadn't he treated her well, better than she had expected? Hadn't he been kinder than she could expect to be treated anywhere else? He had even thought that she'd come to like him, perhaps even trust him a little. She had been welcome to stay on the Pearl. In the back of his mind the thought had played that friendship, once founded, could eventually evolve in something more. 

It was an alien thought, for he had never seen the use of relationships that were more than drinking and bedding and then leaving again. But now, thinking back to the rare moments that she had let her guard down around him, the thought came to him. _Maybe Will and Elizabeth were onto something_

And she had, after he had been kinder than she had had any right to expect, preferred to throw in her luck with an unknown crew. It made him angry, though he could not explain exactly why. In some strange way he felt cheated that the options that had began to form in his mind were cut off. 

A crewmember approached him from aside, trying to get his attention without disturbing the gloomy trail of thought of his captain.

Jack shook his head to return his thoughts to the present, and turned to face the man.

She's not aboard cap, we searched the entire ship.

He nodded blankly, disappointment and anger churning in his mind, and the man left. 

Just like Janeen had left. It was an unreasonable thought and he knew it, but Captain Jack Sparrow felt betrayed.

Letting out a deep sigh, he suddenly fancied he heard a few mournful tones on the wind. He froze, trying to quell the suddenly rising hope. The sounds, real or imagines, brought up a memory, and he strained to look up. He hadn't checked the sparrows' nest! 

Muscle answered thought, and he was high up in the mast not a moment later. 

  
He wondered how he had gone from the dispassionate conclusion that she had left to this churning hope that she would be sitting there, staring at the sea, playing the flute.  
There was no answer. Nor, for that matter, any music. Was she holding still?

He pushed himself up the last metres, muttering something uncomplimentary under his breath about bloody difficult woman who always had to be _difficult_, and raised his head over the edge of the platform.

It was empty. 

Pushing himself up onto the platform he chuckled wryly. He'd expected it to be empty, he really had. The thought that she would be sitting up here was ridiculous. 

Looking out over the sea he wondered why she'd gone. Had his insistence that morning convinced her to try her luck elsewhere? That made him angry again, because he had never done more than intimidate her a bit, and certainly not for lack of wanting. He could take 'no' for an answer, even if that 'no' was nothing but that panicked look in her eyes and the stiffening of her shoulders. He knew of few other men who would have heeded those signs. How on earth could she know that and still prefer to sail with another ship? How could she willingly put herself in that danger? 

Or had jumping ship simply been part of her plans? Or, he remembered his last words to her - _piracy as well as murde_r - had he been getting too close to the truth? It had been an offhand remark, brought out with the stress of the moment. _Piracy as well as murder_. Had he, without even noticing at the moment, told her he knew what she tried to hide and thus convinced her to jump ship? She was less shrewd than he had thought, he decided, aggravated. He hadn't treated her any differently since he'd found out. Why the hell would she think it was a reason to leave? To put herself into an unknown danger?

He wondered if he would ever find out what had happened in Portana, and then found he would like to find out from her.

Not that that was likely to happen.

Because she'd meet the navy as soon as the Dutch ship ran into a harbour, and what they would do with her didn't leave a lot of perspective for ever afters, happy or no. 

Captain Jack Sparrow was a world of gloomy thoughts away when the thought suddenly occurred that he _didn't have to let that happen._

He could go back to the Dutch ship and simply return her to the Pearl. Of course she would be angry with him for taking her fate into his hands. But, he thought with sudden levity, he could probably charm her out of being angry. He couldn't charm her out of being dead.

And anyway, since when did he need an excuse for saving someone's life? It was with that more upbeat wind in the sails of his thoughts that he clambered down, sent half-drunk men into the rigging, and let the Pearl come about. 

  
  


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_Firstly, my very great thanks to Erin, who advised me most helpfully for this chapter. She has a very good action/adventure story in progress called 'Pirates of the Caribbean: The African Star'. Erin, let me know how you liked this chapter? And Rhythmteck, yes I do think I asked you somewhere, thrilling to know you're reading this.. Hope you like my theory of 'flawed OCs' in practice... *grin* _

Then of course my thanks to all the lovely people who have reviewed, new and old – so good to see you here! This story is a strange ride, for you as well as for me, and I'm still not sure where it will take us, but I suspect the journey will be eventful. With creative energy restored, updates should not take too long... 

Cheers,

Arwen Lune   



	12. Stowaway chapter 12

STOWAWAY

Chapter 12

  


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It was at the break of dawn that the Dutch ship once again came into view. Jack idly wondered how they would be received. If Janeen had successfully used the first guise she had tried on him... - Which seemed likely actually, the Dutch captain had seemed an honourable man and lying to honourable men was always easier, they were more gullible, which was why it hadn't worked on him - then his reputation of being merciful would be shot to pieces by what would look like the brutal abduction of a young lady. If, on the other hand, he claimed to be retrieving his rebellious wife, _her r_eputation would forthwith be associated with pirates. If they believed him, that was.

Anyway, claiming she was his wife would also most certainly infuriate her.

Not that _that_ idea bothered him overmuch. Her light-brown skin coloured most attractively when she was angry. 

The Egelantier was in much the same place as they had left it. From the looks of her, she had spent the night on her sea anchors. Jack saw no one on deck, and for a moment the thought occurred that everyone could be dead, killed by a cornered Janeen. 

_An **entire crew**..._? 

Of course, it was never good to underestimate someone, especially if you'd never seen them fight... The thought amended itself to 

_Surely she has more sense..._

It relieved Jack when the approach of the Pearl caused a sudden flurry of activity on board of the Dutch ship. He followed the commotion through his spyglass, grinning madly. What where they fearing? That he had changed his mind and came to sink the ship after all? He let the men run out the guns to firm that suggestion in their minds. It wouldn't do to give them the idea to fire on the Pearl, after all. 

"Drop canvas!" he bellowed, steering the Pearl neatly along the Egelantier, "lower the sea anchors!"

Since the Dutch ship was more or less still in the water, it took all his skills as a captain to manoeuvre the Pearl next to the smaller ship and lower its speed enough to avoid shooting past it. On the command of Mister Gibbs the crew used their hooks to grab a hold of the Egelantier and pull the smaller ship against the hull of the Pearl. The two ships rocked heavily for a moment, and then attuned their response to the waves, rolling calmly, in unison.

"Good morning!" Captain Jack Sparrow bellowed, jumping down onto the deck of the smaller ship with an extravagant flourish. Four crewmembers followed him and positioned themselves in strategic places on the deck of the Dutch ship. 

"Those guns are still loaded, so don't get any brave ideas!"

The Dutch captain hurried on deck, obviously hastily dragged from his bed only a few moments ago. Worry was evident in his face.

"Well hello!" Jack grinned, enjoying being on top of the situation once again. "I forgot something last night, so I thought I'd just nip back here to collect it!"  
An unidentifiable emotion flew over the face of the captain of the Egelantier, and Jacks' mind, not too close to reality at the best of times and distinctively high at this time, connected this with guilt.

The image of Janeen in the bed of the captain was easily formed, and anger bloomed before rationality came into it. 

"Where is she, you got her here?" He drawled as he marched to the door the captain had emerged from. The man seemed to have trouble forming words, and Jack did not wait for it, simply kicked open the door and looked in. 

The cabin was neatly ordered, scrolls and maps on a large desk in neat rolls, a line of clothes visible in an open closet. The only thing unordered was the bed, which had obviously been abandoned hastily. Could she... His cool caught up with him. If she had been here, she probably wouldn't have hidden. He'd more expected her to face him head-on, defending her right to choose her own course... He turned on his heel and marched out again. 

"Where is she, man, where's the lass?" he growled at the Dutchman, flicking his eyes over to Gibbs, who was still on the Pearl. "Don't forget we still have the guns trained on this lovely little ship!"

"She, errr, she was very distressed," she man said, clearly caught between his honour of protecting a lady and the safety of his ship. "We thought it best to, erm, to give her a cabin and speak to her when she had recovered somewhat..."

"How very noble," Jack sneered, annoyed at the thought that these people thought him an abductor and an abuser. "Bring me to her."

The man hesitated again. "She was _very_ distressed," he repeated nervously. "She won't want to come with you."

"We'll see about that," Jack said determined, trying to keep a hold onto his temper. "I'll say this one last time, mate. Bring me to her."  
The man nodded reluctantly and gestured for Jack to follow him. When he halted in front of a cabin door further inside the ship, the man seemed to gather his courage to appeal to him one more time.

Please, whatever you want, just leave her here. We'll take care of her. Jack shook his head, feeling a wretch for having to disillusion the man. He was brave, to put the fate of a runaway half-blood against the fate of his ship. Noble, too.

What do you _want_ with her? The money you took, it should be enough to 

—buy all the female company I want, you mean to say, Jack answered him in a low voice. But this is my _wife_, and she may think it entertaining to test how far she can run before I find her again, I do not intend to let you stop me from taking her back home. He waggled his eyebrows.

His voice was calm and determined, and an expression of doubt travelled over the mans' face. Jack felt pleased about that flash of inspiration. The Dutchman might not believe him completely, but the story cast just enough doubt on whatever Janeen had claimed that he could take her with him without ruining his reputation completely. Or, so he hoped. The plan now hinged on how Janeen acted when he took her back to the Pearl

I'm just going inside to get her, he said conversationally, hoping he'd tipped the balance enough. The captain of the Egelantier nodded tersely.

I'll wait here, he said, voice gruff. Again Jack admired the mans' guts. He plastered a grin onto his face and grabbed the door latch.

You do that, he told the man, and went inside. 

  
  


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(Yes it's short, but that just means that chapter 12 will be here within days :-) )

Reviews! I'll do a by-name review list in the next chapter (am rushing this one out before I go to Uni) but here my heartfelt thanks to each and every reviewer. I got one the other day that made me just glow!

Cheers,  
Arwen Lune


	13. Stowaway chapter 13

STOWAWAY  
_Chapter 13  
_

* * *

  
It was very dark inside. The cabin had no portholes, and whoever was inside clearly hadn't lit a lantern yet. Jack waited with his back against the inside of the door until his eyes adjusted to the gloom. He could hear a soft, even breathing.

Was she still asleep? That was almost too good to be true. He could now discern an area in the corner that was slightly lighter in the darkness. A bed, from the looks of it. There was a dark shape on the far end that he decided must be her head. He contemplated crawling in there with her to wake her, and then remembered that with her sober and on edge, he would most likely be hurt. Badly. 

But he could whisper in her ear from a safe distance. He could already see the surprise and anger in her eyes.

Grinning broadly, he carefully began walking toward the bed, lifting his feet high on the rough floor. This could be so much f—

A hard hand gripped his hair and pulled his head back, and the point of a knife – a sharp, sharp, _sharp _knife, his suddenly survival-obsessed mind insisted – was gently placed just under his ear. Jack stopped breathing.

_What_ are you doing here? a voice said quietly, and the low tone of voice implied that there was an unspoken string of curses accompanying the words. 

he rasped, gesturing in the air and then quickly stopping the motion to avoid any movement of his head. So good to see you safe!

She let out what sounded like a wry little chuckle, the breath brushing his ear. It made him shiver. The whole situation did, truth be told. He had expected her to be a bit more dangerous than she seemed, but this cold, clinical threat worried him nonetheless. She was more in control than he had thought her capable of. All of a sudden he had no trouble imagining a governor yielding to her demands. He couldn't blame the man. 

The contrast between what was happening and what the Dutch captain thought was happening was almost amusing.

Answer the question, she said in that same low voice. 

I, I was very hurt to see ye had left, and I jus' wanted t' make sure that these gents were treatin' you well, eh? he tried for jovial but knew he fell short. You never know wit' this foreign folk, right?

They were perfect gentlemen, she assured him distractedly. The point of the knife slowly eased off, but he could not tell if she put the knife away or if it was still hovering there.   
But I did not leave. Two men came aboard the Pearl and took me because they thought to use me against you she trailed off, her voice sounding far away. The hand let go of his hair, and she continued matter-of-factly; it took the greatest amount of theatrics to convince them that you had abducted me from my home and were cruelly keeping me on your ship for your amusement.

Jack gingerly turned around, glaring at her.   
Thank you for adding _that _to my reputation! 

He stepped closer, all but looming over her, but she stood her ground, eyes flashing in the dark.  
Well what did you expect? she hissed, there aren't a lot of other stories that these men would believe from a half-blooded woman!

She was right there and he knew it. Part of his anger was beginning to dissipate at hearing that she had not chosen to jump ship, that the circumstances had forced her. That _did_ leave the question why she had not defended herself against two strangers invading the cabin she was in But he could think about that later.

We're going back to the Pearl, he stated. Arguing they could do later, from the looks of her to great length. Right now they just needed to get off this ship and back to the Black Pearl. 

She stared at him.  
You are just deciding that?

Aye, lass. Come, he answered, his eyes finally adjusted to the extend that he could see her fully. She was in a defensive stance that allowed her to step out quickly, one arm along her side and the other – holding the knife – half behind her back. But as she spoke, she did not seem to expect any sudden action from him, and that was her downfall.

she said coldly. You do not get to decide that over me. Staying on this ship suits me, they'll bring me to—

Before she could continue he had seized a hold of her, grabbing her forearms and keeping them behind her back as he backed her against the bulkhead next to the door, using his bodyweight to keep her there. She was still holding the knife, and for a long moment she fought furiously to use it, but his grip was iron and it did her no good. Janeen let out a hiss of pain and frustration and then gritted between her teeth; _Damn _you Sparrow!

Laughing softly, he leant in to whisper in her ear.  
Now listen well. You and I are going to walk out of this cabin and back to the Pearl, where we can fight about this at great length if you prefer. If you do not go with me voluntarily, I will carry you, and let me assure you I will not worry about your dignity when I do.

She hissed angrily and surged forward in fury, meanwhile trying to get such a hold on the knife that it was useful. Having expected this, Jack tsked "Temper, temper, love," and pressed her back against the bulkhead, hard enough to wind her. He squeezed the tendons in her wrist until the knife clattered to the floor. This seemed to deflate her, and she stopped fighting, her breath in short, strained gasps under the weight of his body pinning her against the bulkhead.

The door flew open.

Janeen stiffened at the sudden press of lips as Jack kissed her, her eyes huge and startled. Her mouth was open in a gasp and he took advantage of that, gently invading her mouth. Feeling her tense, he gentled his grip until he was simply holding her in the circle of his arms, closely but no longer forcefully. To his amusement, she seemed to have lost all initiative to escaping. After a moment her jaw slacked, and he luxuriated in this small surrender.

This is enough! I do not care what you do to my ship, but you will not— the Dutch captains' outraged claim trailed off as the mans' sight adjusted to the gloom and he saw the pirate and the woman, locked in a strange sort of embrace, kissing with apparent enjoyment. To Jacks' amusement, the man said nothing further, just slammed the door and stomped off. 

When he broke the kiss, leaving Janeen flustered and even more out of breath, he grinned at her surrender. It was no doubt temporarily, but it was surrender of a sort. 

"Let's get back to the Pearl now, eh? We've convinced the captain I'm not as horrible as you made him believe, and he won't have to do anything stupidly brave to save you from me."

Something in those words made her cold demeanour return, but he paid it no heed for the moment, more concerned with getting off the ship. He pushed Janeen toward the door, leant down to pick up the knife and put it in his sash against his back, and opened the door. There was no one in the corridor. Guiding Janeen firmly by the upper arm, he marched her out onto the deck. She did not protest at this treatment, though he knew the discussion was far from over. Walking out onto deck, they both halted and blinked for a moment against the bright sunlight of morning. 

"C'm on, back to d' Pearl," Jack drawled, laying on the piratical accent a little thicker now the Dutch crew was within hearing distance again. He pushed Janeen into motion walking toward the railing.

"I hate you," she said sulkily. Jack laughed at her tone. She did not seem quite so furious anymore.

"Well you know what they say about hate lass," he grinned.

"No I don't." She shrugged her shoulder, and he eased his tight grip. "What _do_ they say?"

"That hate is just love with its back turned," he taunted her. She scoffed. 

"Not _this_ hate!" she assured him, but without much rancour. Jack found it entertaining how she adapted to a new situation without a hitch. Whichever way the wind changed, she sailed it like she'd always planned on it.   
His crew had hung down a rope ladder from the Pearl, and he gestured at Janeen to climb it. As she did this, slowly and painfully hampered by two sore wrists, Jack turned around to face the captain a last time.

"Well! Now that I have _all_ my treasure, we'll not bother you again." He made a deep, extravagant bow, and the other man grudgingly returned a more sober version. Jack could see that he still wasn't pleased to see the pirates take the woman again, but not as worried as he had been. Jack silently thanked Janeen for not making him drag her to the Pearl kicking and screaming. 

Jack climbed up to the Pearl, commanded his crew to let go of the Egelantier, and greeted the Dutchmen with a cheerful wave of his hat.

Janeen was gone when he turned around. When he asked Gibbs, the man just pointed at the door of Jacks' cabin and shrugged.  
Well, she _would_ be a bit ticked off right now, wouldn't she? Perhaps it was best to leave her to cool down for a while. He could always try to explain things to her in the evening, perhaps with the influence of a bottle of rum to make matters easier. 

* * *

  
  


Well, since there wasn't really a reason to keep this one from you, here it is. For the moment it'll be the last chapter; my muses have returned to Tolkien fandom and I can't not obey. Meanwhile I will dwell on where exactly I want to take Jack and Janeen before the end – I had something planned, but discussions with a friend brought to the light that it was rather a lame and tame way of ending the story arch. Rushing this to an undue end just because I wanted it finished would be a disservice to the characters, so this story is on hold for a while. My apologies. I promise I will finish it. 

Cheers,  
Arwen Lune  



	14. Stowaway chapter 14

[note: I was really busy with The Downside, but gods it's demotivating to write for a fandom without readers! I'm in need for some reactions to what I write, and Captain Jack Sparrow was itching in the back of my mind a bit, so here goes. Hope to keep going 'till the end now!  
Note 2: difficult chapter this. She has to go through it Hope it works.]

STOWAWAY  
(the long-awaited..) Chapter 14

  


* * *

  
It was well into the evening before Jack scraped up the nerve to confront the girl. She had not shown herself, presumably still in his cabin. Now, with all the crew drinking and telling stories of their victories, Captain Jack Sparrow went to his cabin. He brought a bottle of rum as a peace-offering - or defensive weapon, he wasn't sure which. Straightening his tricorn hat, he reached out a purposeful hand, and, remembering that his spare cutlass was in that cabin, very gently knocked on the rough wood of the door.

Inside, nothing made a sound. 

Janeen lass, I think we should talk, he began. Still no sound. 

Are you even there, love? he wheedled. When that didn't have result, he proceeded to threatening. 

Lass, if you don't answer me I'll come in, how 'bout that? 

He heard a soft thud and a scraping sound inside. Then Janeens' voice, sounding oddly off, from just behind the door. 

Don't— don't come in.

It should have sounded like a warning, but it didn't. 

Then come out, there's no one here but me, the crew are all up on the quarterdeck he tried, unsure why she wouldn't want him to come in. She didn't_ sound_ angry...

That worried him a bit. He thought he had her moods sussed out, and this was new.

No, no, I'm staying right here, Janeen answered hastily.

Al right then, we can have a door-to-door conversation, I guess, Jack shrugged. He played for a moment with the thought of simply going in after all, but stopped himself. If he ever wanted her to have confidence in him, he had to respect her wishes. Even if they didn't suit him.

That was a completely new notion to him. He continued jauntily to mask his puzzlement at the idea. 

Only I brought us something to drink and un_less_ you want me to pour it through the keyhole I'll have to drink it alone.

"What do you want?" she sounded tired, not at all interested in rum.

"Just talk, love, just talk," he promised. There was a scraping sound along the door as if she sat down.

"All right," her voice sounded from further down the door, "talk." 

Jack let himself slide down until he sat with his back against the cabin door, grinning at the idea that she was sitting in the same way on the other side. 

"Why did you leave?" he asked after a moment, wondering if she'd answer. He couldn't quite gauge her mood. To his surprise, she didn't repeat that she had been forced off the Pearl.

"It wasn't my plan, but it seemed as good as anything, really," she said softly. The beauty about going nowhere is that an unexpected change of course isn't an inconvenience.

"It seemed as good as anything?" Jack groused, "goin' straight to the navy?"

There was a sound as if she shrugged. "That captain quite believed me. I did not think the danger was overmuch. And I'm sure I could have found a way out of that situation too," she said with a shrug in her voice. The unconcerned tone made Jack angry.

"Found a way out? Out of your _hanging_? Because that's what they'd do you know, I'm sure the news from Portana has reached these regions by now!" 

The anger within was beginning to build, and he sought for a way to convince her of the seriousness of the situation. When she began to answer, he cut her off.

How would you do that, eh? Tell another one of your stories? Seduce someone? I can already see it working on the navy! his voice rose, frustration pounding in his blood, and if it all goes wrong you can always kill someone, is that it!? 

It was very, very quiet on the other side of the door. Captain Jack Sparrow took a deep breath and tried to calm down or at least stop yelling.

Is that why you needed the door locked to sleep? Because you were afraid I'd hear the nightmares?

"I-I-I need to... he used too... I just c-can't... I'm a light sleeper," she stammered, her voice piteously nervous. 

"You never have dreams about the people you killed? Jack pressed on, aware that he was going too far but at this moment too enflamed to heed it. 

The tone of her voice changed abruptly, grew distant.

"Some of them were never meant to die."

But they did?

"Aye.

She sounded strangely remote, as if she wasn't ready to admit that this affected her. 

Others were in my way..." now continued, still in the same voice. Then, as a casual afterthought, 

He opened his mouth for a scathing reply, but thought the better of it. The thought occurred that she might be keeping her distance to the words because they hurt when she got any closer. 

"And then there were those I don't regret killing at all."

He understood the last category. He, too, had kills to his name that he would make again. If she had lived through what she'd hinted at, he could certainly understand that she would have them. 

"Why did you get me off that ship anyway?" she asked suddenly. The tone was innocently curious, but there was an edge to the question.

Jack held still for a moment, wondering what kind of reason she'd accept. He didn't think 'I'm starting to like you' would endear him to her. To her, that would just mean that he was manipulating her life because it pleased him.   
He supposed that if she chose to look at it that way, she would see that anyway, but that didn't mean he'd have to come right out and tell her.

"I was almost hung, once," he said after a long moment. "Can't recommend it, so to say."  
He was rather pleased with that answer. It seemed to give an explanation without committing itself to anything. Janeen was silent for a moment. 

"Yes, but why did you get me off that ship?

Jack grimaced. She wasn't falling for it. In a way that pleased him, because it showed she wasn't stupid, despite what he had said about her bad judgement - but now he had to think of another way to answer without giving away too much.

Say I begrudged them the fun of 'aving you, he finally said, putting a grin in his voice. On the other side of the door, Janeen sighed. She might not believe it, but she did not ask him again. 

"What did you intend to do once you were on land anyway?" he asked when the silence stretched.

"I don't know," she said, sounding as if she had not considered this before. "I suppose I'd have looked around, seen the sights, found a lousy job, become bored with it, found someone to extort money from for my next voyage, and moved on."

Jack was surprised at the pointlessness of it. He'd thought there was some kind of design to her actions - money or revenge perhaps. Now it sounded as if she simply couldn't think of a better thing to do.

That's all? I thought you wanted to get somewhere

Not go somewhere just go. I've always liked travelling, she shrugged.

You go through all that trouble and walk into all that danger only because you like to _travel_? Jack's mind boggled. He knew she wasn't one to pick the easiest paths, but this was astounding. 

_YOU_ have it easy, you have a _ship_! she burst out with sudden exasperation, And if you didn't, there'd be a hundred others you could apply for a position in the crew! I don't have that luxury! she was definitely angry now, and that riled up his own anger with the danger she'd put herself in. 

Don't you ever get _tired_ of lying and killing your way through life?

That was perhaps over the top and he knew it, but he wasn't in the most reasonable frame of mind. Why couldn't the stupid woman see in how much danger she put herself? Why didn't she try to _avoid_ getting herself into tight spots? And why wasn't she answering? Jack made a furious, frustrated gesture into the air, and then, instead of punching the door in frustration, took a long swig of rum, hoping to calm himself. 

I hardly think _you _are the person to lecture me on honesty! she finally answered in an angry hiss. There was something else in that voice as well, but he couldn't begin to identify it. It never did me any good. I didn't start living until I dismissed that _holy_ truth! she sneered. 

But you're not living, lass! he called out, exasperated. All you're doing is drifting along with the current to wash up somewhere, get into trouble, fight yourself out, and jump into the current again! 

And what alternatives do I have, then? her voice was rising too, sharp with frustration, I can become a whore, and entertain unwashed drunks for the profit of a _tavern owner_ to Jacks' surprise her intonation said that she regarded tavern owners as a lot lower than whores, or I could become someones' _wife_, and become property of a rotten heavy-handed man and caged in a rotten little hut on a _rotten_ little island! 

Jacks' sharp reply died on his lips. Claustrophobia sprang on him at the thought alone. The words had been laced with furious venom, but that was not quite enough to cover over the tinge of stomach-clenching terror. To his heart, it could only be truth. Perhaps, he reflected sombrely, the first piece of real truth he heard from her. Behind the door she was shifting restlessly, her breathing quick and shallow as if trying to contain emotions too large to be restrained. 

Did ye kill 'im, love? he asked gently after a while, his anger and frustration stopped in their track by the sound of her anguish. 

She laughed suddenly, voice tinged with hysteria.   
Yes, yes I did! her voice cracked then, the laughing stopped, and he could but barely discern her whispered words. But he never goes away

Those last words sounded so utterly lost and forlorn that his arms ached to hold her, wanted to offer comfort where his words fell short. The feeling was new to him. It wasn't that he didn't have a lot of experience with women, because he did – just not of the kind that required a lot of thinking or talking. Even Anamaria had, on the rare occasion that she had been willing to accept comfort, simply wanted to be held. 

Janeen, love? he asked, wondering where this sudden impulse to comfort her came from. She did not answer. Lass, is it all right if I come in?

She did not answer, but there was a flurry of motion on the other side of the door, scratching on the wood and then quick footsteps. She'd jumped to her feet to get away from the door.

Jack pulled off his hat and rubbed his face. Was she still afraid? Worried he'd kick in the door? He would have dismissed it for ridiculous had he not remembered that the last time she'd tried to keep him out, he had shot the lock off the door. 

Could've just said 'no', lass, he said, a bit disappointed. He'd thought she trusted him better by now. He heard a sound that might have been a wry chuckle.

I don't seem to recall that helping before, her voice sounded from further within the cabin. He could hear the floor creaking; she was walking around, pacing perhaps. It would be so easy to just go in and hold her, calm her. 

But he was beginning to understand that if he wanted her to actually confide in him, not just tell lies because he pressured her, then he had to respect her personal space. She was upset and she needed to be alone, and he'd simply have to wait until she felt up to facing the rest of the world again.

For someone used to always taking what he wanted or needed, this experience was new to Jack. 

He was silent for a long time, listening to her pacing and muttering. It wasn't hard to imagine what she looked like, prowling the cabin like a lioness, eyes feral, gesturing wildly. He could sense her penned up frustration even through the door. 

Do you want me to leave? he asked eventually, wondering why he was still there. It was not as if he was doing anything but drinking rum and listening to her stalking.

Y—no—I don't know, she answered, voice so indecisive that it made him smile. 

"Could tell ye a story," he offered offhand. It seemed to make as much sense as anything, really. 

"What about?" Janeen asked, her voice curious as if she were eager to be distracted from her thoughts. He could hear her walk closer to the door.

"I don't know lass, what do you want to hear about?"

"Tell me about how you became captain of the Pearl?"

Jack could see the appeal the story held to her. For someone feeling confined by life, the acquiring of a ship was the ultimate form of freedom. He settled down comfortably, folding his legs in front of him, and launched into his storytelling mode. 

"I was a young lad in Tortuga when I first saw the Black Pearl he began his tale, pitching his voice low and colourful. He left out some of the more extravagant details, sensing that she wanted to find some hope in the story and that it should not be too hard to believe. When he was nearing one of the high points of the story, the great fight in which the former captain became mortally wounded and made young Jack promise to take care of his ship, Jack heard the woman sit down against the door again, her breathing now in a slow, languid rhythm. Gratified that he seemed to be doing something that comforted her, he continued his tale.

"...and that is how I came to have her back, my Pearl. I'll never let her get away again."

Looking up to the clear Caribbean sky Jack found it well past midnight. Up on the quarterdeck he could hear the crew telling boisterous tales, but here it was silent. Jack listened intently at the door. 

"Janeen, love, are you awake?"

"Hmm?" her voice was low. "Yes..."

"Ye should go to bed lass, we'll speak more in the morning, how 'bout that?"

"All right..." she answered finally, though she sounded as if she were already half asleep. They both climbed to their feet, and Jack stood listening to her unsteady progress to bed. She spoke no more.

With a wistful smile he walked to the bow of his ship, letting the sweet song of wind and waves clear his thoughts. What had been going on in her mind? She had seemed composed before, as if she felt on top of the situation. Perhaps the events of the past week had finally become too heavy to shrug off. 

That last thing seemed right. Whether she had lied about the events in Portana or not, it was clear that they had been very upsetting. Not to mention the ghost from her past that she had admitted never left her alone. 

Jack tried again to imagine what life would be like on one of the small islands he was always eager to leave behind. The villages were small, the minds smaller. Few people seemed to know or miss happiness in that life, and he could imagine how stifling it would have been for one as spirited as Janeen.

Now he finally had back his Pearl, his means of reaching the horizon, the idea of being someone's property - and he knew that in many places marriages came down to that - and of being confined in every way, shook him to the core.

Sleep would not come to Captain Jack Sparrow that night. Only when the sky began to colour in the east he found rest at last, leaned back in the chair of the helm. The Pearl sighed indulgently underneath him, half-sails flapping gently in the breeze. Dolphins kept crossing his dreams, riding the bow-waves of his ship with what had to be freedom in its ultimate form.

* * *

  
TBC...

[Note: reviews please! *begs* ]  



	15. Stowaway chapter 15

STOWAWAY

Chapter 15  
  


* * *

  
"Hoy, below!

Yes, tops?

Sail ho! Hull down, but a lot o' canvas!

Where away?

Portside aft!

"Raise the mainsails, adjust the course Northeast!"

"Aye!"

The mainsail rippled and cracked overhead as it was quickly raised, and Jack startled awake to find his crew in full activity. Men hung in the rigging, hoisting andfixing the sails with uncharacteristic speed.

"Wha's goin on?"  
His head felt surprisingly clear, and it took a moment to remember that he had been sober when he finally fell asleep.

"White sails, Cap!" Gibbs answered, shading his eyes to follow the progress in the masts. 

"Where? Oh, that 'un! They've caught up with us then....shutup!" he added, the last part to the parrot, which was screeching encouragingly about 'wind in the sails'.

"I thought you might wan' evade them, looks like a big fellow," Gibbs said.

"Good, good," Jack said distractedly, grasping at the maps and rolling one out over the other on the rough wood. "How long 'ave they been in view?"

Mister Gibbs pointed to the Sparrow's nest.  
"'Neen spotted 'em a moment ago"

"And they've already gained this far?"

Gibbs nodded.

"All right!" Captain Jack Sparrow bellowed to his crew, "that'd be the Navy! They're abit bigger th'n us, so let's carry every sail we've got!"

This caused a new flurry of activity as men swarmed the rigging, raising all available canvas and fastening it. Before long, the wind filled the dark sails and the Black Pearl sprang forward, the water foaming at her bow. 

Jack stared at his charts, finger tracing a peculiar line on the old paper. Gibbs looked over his shoulder.  
"Where do you want to go, Cap? Looks like a ship of the line; it won't be easy to shake off...."**  
**  
"Ah you'll see," Jack grinned, checking his compass and adjusting the course "We could shake them off, but I'd like to.... deal with them."

What he did not say was that he hoped dealing with this ship would give Janeen more confidence about confronting her problems instead of fleeing from them. He looked up, and found her standing on the platform, high up in the mast. With one arm she held on to the mast, with the other hand she shaded her eyes against the glare of the sun. The wind pulled at her clothes, outlining her round backside sharply.   
She either did not notice, or did not care. Jack idly wondered which.

What he mainly saw was how completely at ease she looked, as if she did not notice she was standing nearly thirty-five metres above the water on a ship that was heeling to the wind. She really did take to the sailing life easily, he thought with pleasure. 

Suddenly she looked down, where three crew members were struggling with the topsails in the brisk wind. Janeen climbed down awkwardly and seemed to follow their instructions in tying a loose line. When the sails were set, she climbed further down, while Moises took over as a lookout. 

Jack checked their course, adjusted it a degree or two, and used his spyglass to see more of the Navy ship. It was indeed the same as they had seen just after Portana, a tall vessel that moved deceptively fast for such a large ship. It was still at the same distance from the Pearl, but it had the advantage of the wind abaft, while the new course of the Black Pearl took her at an angle to the wind. Jack knew the distance between the two ships would get smaller still as they neared the islands he aimed for, but was not worried overmuch. If everything went according to plan they would never get within firing range. As he looked, a veil pulled before the sun, and the blue of the sky started to turn more greyish. 

"Is that the navy?" Janeen asked, having silently come up to the helm. She sounded cool, composed. As if the outburst of last night had never happened. There wasn't time to dwell on that now. Jack nodded absently, gaze locked on the distant ship.

"Can we outrun them?"

"Aye, we could, but we're no' going te"

That seemed to make her nervous, and she shifted her weight as if she was not sure if to hide or to stay her ground. 

Are they here for you or for me? she asked eventually.

Jack laughed.  
Hah! Lass, I daresay they'd like to get their hands on the both of us, not to mention my crew!

That seemed to startle the woman, as if she had not considered the option before. When Jack lowered the spyglass, she extended her hand, silently requesting a look.

They'll run in a bit more, they've the advantage of the wind. But no worries, I've got a Plan.

To his surprise and delight, she actually scoffed. Then, shocked by her own audacity, she quickly hid her mouth behind her hand. 

What, don't ye have faith in me plans? he drawled.

Oh no, I wouldn't dare. I have _every _faith in your plans, captain, she assured him earnestly. Her face stood sincere, but there was a glint of humour in her eyes. 

_Well is THAT a bit of a change! _Jack thought, stunned. The events of the day before, in all their drama, were still fresh in his mind. And now she was she was _flirting_ with him, however cautiously.

Not for the first time, he wondered what in the seven seas went on underneath that wildly curling hair. 

You'd best stay on hand to make yeself useful, lass. It's goin' to be a busy day.

The wind picked up, and as it did, so came the waves. The bow of the Black Pearl cut her way through the water, throwing sheets of glistering water every now and then. Jack delighted in the push and fall under his feet as the Pearl took on the waves.

This should go off well. It'd do morale good to see the Navy in a tight spot, and that would open the way to sail all the way to Grenada, to new grounds. Perhaps there he could find some new crew members. Most of his original crew had stayed on when he'd regained the Pearl, but that was a skeleton crew, enough to sail but barely to fight. He'd taken in some new members, but most of them found the more sedate style of pirating unsatisfying and left quickly again. 

That reminded her to get the latest addition, a young man by the name of Whittle, to sign the ships' articles. The lad seemed promising, if a little short-tempered. But he'd learn, Jack would make sure of that. 

That made him consider if Janeen should sign the articles too. She was a stowaway and hardly an able-bodied seaman, but she was making herself useful, and seemed to be learning fast. If she was going to be on board until Grenada, it would have to be officially under his command.

That would have to come later though. The stronger weather had aided his plans up 'till now, but the waves were getting larger still, and a steel-grey curtain of clouds hid the sun from his sight now. It the weather became too much to execute his plans, they would be back where they started; and sailing to Grenada with the Navy on their trail did not seem such an appealing prospect.

That is just bleedin' marvellous, he muttered to the sky, eyes narrowed. Abso-bloody-lutely bleedin' terrific, _honestly_!

Mister Cotton! he bellowed suddenly, turning around abruptly to see if the man was behind him. Where are you, man!

He heard the parrot screech something and realised that the mute sailor was busy below the foremast, where the crack and keen of sail and rigging made his voice impossible to be heard. Temper failing because of this new inconvenience, he cast a look about for the nearest handy victim. 

You, woman! he pointed a long finger at Janeen, who had been gazing through the spyglass. She startled to attention. Come over here and hold the helm.

If he hadn't been too preoccupied with the worsening of the weather, he might have laughed at her look of utter shock. 

Don' just stand there lass! he snapped, the adrenaline of a plan in execution searing his veins. Janeen came forward cautiously, keeping a wary eye on him as if he was about to bite her. He grabbed her hesitant hand and placed it on one of the spokes of the wheel, keeping it there until she folded her fingers about it. 

Jus' keep it like tha', lass.

Turning away, he leapt up onto the railing, arms spread out to grab ahold of the ratlines. Leaning out over the churning water, he glared at the darkening horizon. 

Marvellous timin', _really_! he shouted, venting his frustration. Hav' ye more fer us?!

In an ominous answer, lighting lit the dark horizon. Blinking, Jack abruptly shook himself from his fit of temper. 

All right then.

At the next descent into a vale of water, he dropped back onto deck and turned back to the helm. Janeen stared at him as if he'd sprouted horns, but he dismissed her from his immediate concerned, mind bent upon the execution of his plan.

Thank ye, I'll take this, he dismissed her, taking over the wheel and with a glance on his compass adjusting it an infinitesimal amount. It should be a few hours before they could spot land, provided visibility didn't drop overmuch.

Dark sails snapped as the rising wind turned a degree, coming more fully into the canvas the Black Pearl offered, and the rigging sang as the pirate ship strode across the wind. Captain Jack Sparrow steered her skilfully along the increasingly higher waves, legs braced and chin up. 

A sudden gold-toothed grin bloomed when the thought occurred that the weather might actually aid his plans, if he played out the advantage well enough. 

he yelled up after a time, The other 'un still visible?!

Aye, hull down! the faint cry came from above. Captain Jack Sparrow scowled, considering all possible outcomes if the navy lost sight of the Pearl. If they had the same maps as he had But they would not have. That was good. Nonetheless

Mister Gibbs! he cried out suddenly, Where the devil are you, GIBBS!

When the first mate appeared at the bottom of the stairs, he continued with an imperious wave of his hand, Reef some canvas man, we need to slow down a notch.

The older man raised his eyebrows, but called out the commands anyway. When men scurried into the rigging to take in some sail, Gibbs came up to the quarterdeck.

What in the devil's name are ye doin', Jack?

Can't very well lead her on if she loses sight of us, now can we? the captain smirked. 

Looks like a bit of heavy weather comin' though. Were you plannin' on sitting' it out?

Aye, sitting all right, but not on open sea You'd best have 'em prepare for a bit o' rough weather all the same, batten the hatches an' all that. And _you_, he pivoted to point at Janeen, who had been gathering the various loose items on the quarterdeck to put them in a chest, had best get below. I want only able bodied crew up here.

She opened her mouth to protest, but he forestalled it with a sharply upraised finger.   
Get. Below. No lubbers up 'ere in rough weather.

Scowling, she went. The Pearl climbed a great wave while the woman went down the stairs, but she kept her footing, dark curls whipping in the wind.

TOPS! How's now?

Equal pace cap! the answer came faintly. It would be getting dangerous up there, but they needed the lookout to become aware of land as soon as possible. And Moises, the wiry, half-oriental pirate up there now, was up to the task.

Keep an eye on 'er! he called back up. 

_Now let's see _he pondered. _The islands will be on 'is maps, even though they're too small to be populated_

The weather worsened yet further, but it did not grow into an all-out storm. 

Looks like we're just skirting 'er! Marty shouted, one of his short arms hanging on to the banister as he came up the stairs. Jack laughed, strands of hair whipping about his face. The Pearl dipped sharply along the next wave.

he called back, plastering on his trademark grin. Could 'av been fun!

The small pirate shook his head in amused disbelief, and replied We've tied everything down cap!

Good! Stand by to tack soon as we see land!

Aye cap!

No one questioned his plan or even asked to hear it, and that felt strange. He was used to having his ideas scrutinised by Gibbs or Anamaria. Not that he often changed them, but that felt right, that they checked if his plans weren't too outrageous. Now Gibbs was busy directing the crew on his own, and Anamaria was well, if he knew her even a little bit, she'd clobbered the dull-witted youth over the head and was off on her own again. He wished her well, whatever she did.

  


+++

  
Hoy! Captain!

Jack guiltily realised Moises had been calling him for a while now and that he had been too lost in thoughts to hear the man. As he looked up, far above the lookout simply pointed starboard. Jack grabbed his spyglass and discovered that what had seemed a formation of slightly darker clouds was actually the island formation he had been looking for. 

Sails flapped hard in the fierce wind as the crew of the Pearl adjusted her sails, and the dark ship rode the wind on a long reach toward the two small islands. 

"What'she doin'?" Jack hollered up to the lookout.

"Can't tell" it drifted down faintly, and Jack impatiently checked the course, the speed and the charts to ensure that their trajectory would be exactly right. 

"she's following! Following sir!"

Jack smirked, pleased with a plan going well, and busied himself with the most detailed chart he had of the area. Once through the gap between the islands, the wind would be unpredictable, and his manoeuvre then would have to be exactly right. If it wasn't, they would put themselves in the position he had reserved for the British naval ship

"Captain! What're ye doing?" Duncan up to the quarterdeck, soaked from keeping watch at the bowsprit. "Ye can't mean to take the gullet! Ye know what's on the otha side of the island, don't ye?"

"Aye Mister Duncan, I do!" Jack called back, grinning fiercely. "But do _they_ know, I wonder!"

The tall, wiry pirate spun and tried to see the navy ship in the distance, a doubtful look on his face. 

"Return to your post and keep a lookout for shallows!" Captain Jack Sparrow ordered. "And tell the men to get ready!"

He needed the men at their posts, not up here at the helm doubting his plans. If his luck would hold and the sea favoured him today 

Of _course_ it would.

  


+ + +

  
With a precision equalling that of jewel makers and swordmiths, Captain Jack Sparrow inched his ship into the right position, aligned perfectly with the channel between the two island. The wind whipped the water into choppy foam, but half of the Pearl's canvas had been taken in, and she stayed in a steady position under the hands of her master.

Then suddenly they were between land. For a tense few minutes, the deck of the Black Pearl was alive with calls and whistles as Jack and Gibbs specified to the men in the rigging exactly how the numerous sails needed to be adjusted. It wasn't that the channel between the two islands was narrow – the difficult part came just after the channel.

"Now cap'n! NOW!" Jack heard Mister Duncan scream from the lookout at the bowsprit, and he bellowed commands for all he was worth. 

"Hard a port! All hands HARD A PORT!"

In an instant the position of the sails was adjusted once more, and the great ship lurched as it caught the wind from a different angle. Then, controlled and slow under the hands of its captain, it turned portside to hug the sheer rock wall of the southern island. There sails lost their tautness as the wind dropped abruptly, and he called for the men to use the oars to move the ship a little further into the cover of the rocky island. When he deemed they were far enough out of sight, he called for the anchors to be dropped.

As the ship stilled, no longer on the whim of the storm, Jack turned around to watch the direction they had just come from. If the navy followed, it would be surprised by the barely visible reefs just at the end of the channel between the islands. Unprepared for a portside tack, it would be forced to turn into the broader gullet on the starboard side. That would not have been a problem, had the starboard gullet not led straight to a hidden smugglers' hideout on the greater Northern Island

Captain Jack Sparrow grinned a golden grin. It was a victory exactly to his tastes. Little risk, no wounded, no damage to his Pearl, and he could hardly be blamed if the navy and the smugglers shot each other to pieces, now could he?

* * *

tbc...

Hah! First bit of new work. Hope it all works comments most welcome. I'm no good at writing nautical action!  



	16. Stowaway chapter 16

Thank you for all the kind reviews! It's just so much fun writing in a fandom with active readers   
  
Captain Tish, in answer to your question – reread the following fragment:  
  
or I could become someones' _wife_, and become property of a rotten heavy-handed man and caged in a rotten little hut on a _rotten_ little island!  
  
Jacks' sharp reply died on his lips.  
  
Did ye kill 'im, love?   
  
Does that answer it? I love reviews like yours because they give me some insight in how you are reading this kind of thing, on how clear I am and on if you actually view the characters as I view them!  
  
This chapter is a bit steamy. No more than PG-13 though, I reckon. But if you think it'll offend you, it probably will.  
  
  


* * *

  


**STOWAWAY   
**_Chapter 16_  
  


  
  
The full crew was up on the quarterdeck when the navy came into view. It was by then nearing twilight, and the twinkles of light on board of the naval vessel could just be seen. They veered away, as expected, and disappeared in the gathering dark. Not long after gunshots could be heard. First the thrumming rumbles of land-guns, then the clearer booms of a ships' guns. The pirates listened to it with gleeful grins. Soon, bottled of rum were brought out and a modest celebration took place.   
  
Jack accepted a bottle offered to him by Marty and took a swig. Giving it back to the small pirate he warned his crew.  
  
"Now don't get legless, savvy? I wan' out o' here soon as its light, and I'll keelhaul any of ye swabs still drunk by then!"  
  
There was some half-hearted protest from the newer members of the crew, but they hushed quickly. The captain had done well today.  
  
Captain Jack Sparrow shook his hands to expel some of the tension of the day, and stumbled down the stairs. Mister Gibbs would take care of setting the watch, and he, for a precious few hours, could relax.  
  
Except that he didn't feel as if he would be able to unwind anytime soon. In the distance guns still boomed, echoes resonating over the water. The forest on the island whipped and groaned under the heavy winds, but the Pearl lay shielded, safe in its lee. The deck under his feet ought to be pitching and rocking, but it was calm now, gentle almost.  
  
His wandering feet took him to the stem of the Pearl, where all was quiet. Jack watched for a time the dark island, a cliff almost, where bushes and small trees clung tenaciously to the sheer rock walls.   
  
Another heavy explosion echoed over the water, and on the edge of his vision he noticed something moving on deck.   
  
Janeen. She was sitting at the base of the foremast, on a coiled rope. An item of clothing lay in her lap, and she was meticulously repairing a wide gash in the fabric. Jack marvelled she could still see what she was doing in the gathering dark.   
  
As he approached, she glanced up.  
  
"That can ruin yer eyesight, you know."  
  
She just shrugged.   
  
"You cold, lass?"  
  
"No."  
  
That was an outright lie, because she was shivering. He didn't bother pointing it out. The linen shirt was soaked, showing her dark skin through it. She still wore the bodice of her blue dress underneath; considering how see-through the white shirt had become, he admitted she had a point there.  
  
"Why'd you come outside?"  
  
"Fresh air," she nodded as if agreeing with herself, "definitely a good thing."  
  
He grinned, dropping himself on the coil of rope next to her. She didn't shy away, and he glanced aside to gauge if she had been drinking perhaps. Her eyes were dark and clear, gazing straight ahead as if she was trying to solve some sort of problem.  
  
Jack shifted his weight, and his forearm touched hers. The skin was chilled, a slightly ashen tint instead of its normal warm brown. Without saying anything, he took the arm into his lap and gently chafed the skin. When it began to feel warmer, Janeen hung her head forward, letting out a deep sigh.  
  
"What's wrong, love?"   
  
The heavy dark braid slid to the side and he trailed his fingertips along her neck. The skin stood in goose bumps. Jack found he wanted to warm her up. He had a few ideas on how he could do that, if she'd only let him  
  
That appealing trail of thought was interrupted when she raised her head sharply, eyes fixed on some point on the horizon. For a moment it seemed as if she wanted to say something, but her mouth closed again, and she turned her attention to him, dismissing whatever had been bothering her.  
  
"Are you taking liberties?" Her voice was sharp and a little indignant, the way he imagined Elizabeth Swann would have said it. The tone didn't fit this woman somehow.  
  
He draped his arm over her shoulders and grinned lecherously.  
"Depends, are you offering?"  
  
To his utter surprise she wordlessly turned a little, into his embrace. She stuck the needle into a seam and put her work aside. His hand slid down to around her waist, releasing the arm. Janeen let out a sigh, as if she didn't plan on going anywhere soon. The always so rigid muscles in her back eased, and before he even fully realised it, Captain Jack Sparrow had an armful of Janeen.  
  
_Well THIS is new_, he thought. "I might be inclined to count that as a 'yes'."  
  
He bent over to press her lips against hers, see how far this mood would last, but she met him halfway with an urgent kiss, erasing any doubt he might have had about this being something she wanted. He marvelled at the feel of her under his hands. She was soaking wet and shaking, but there was something... tensed about her now, like a coiled spring.   
  
When the kiss ended the both of them were breathing heavily. Jack grinned and unfolded his legs to stand, pulling her up with him. The men were celebrating up on the quarterdeck; it wasn't the best of moves to stay here if this progressed any further. Better to get to his cabin.   
  
Janeen seemed to have the same in mind. They grinned at each other, her arm solidly around his waist. It felt good, as if she claimed him. That assured him that this wasn't something he was making her do; she wanted this. The thought set his blood on fire.  
  
They were barely inside when he backed her against the bulkhead, leaning in for another searing-hot kiss. Her skin was warming already, cheeks darkening as she flushed. His sash fell to the ground, and her hands slid underneath his shirt, encouragingly strong on his back and his shoulders, urging him on.  
  
He undid the drawstring of her shirt and pulled it wide, baring the blue bodice underneath. It was a modest thing, part of the kind of dress a practical woman would wear, but if he undid the laces that kept it closed... but no, best not skip ahead now. He let go of her momentarily to take off his shirt and heard her breath hitch when she saw the scars.  
  
"We all 'av our litte things, innit love?" he took her tentative hand and placed it over the two round scars, letting her feel that it was all right to touch. The wounds had been terrible, brought him near-death and left him there in the cold, but that was gone, they were but scars now. Reminders, not more.   
  
Janeen stepped closer, hands flat against his chest, and bent her head to nip at his collarbone. Jack breathed out sharply, suddenly wanting more skin-contact. Her shirt came off easily, revealing more chilled skin. His mouth worked diligently at warming all of it, from her shoulder to her neck, hands assisting in turning her head so that he could reach the sensitive spot just beneath her ear.   
  
"D-don't"   
  
Suddenly she was rigid in his arms, and he abruptly ceased his explorations. Her head was pressed back against the bulkhead, her breathing fast, no longer with heat but with fear. Before he could ask what it was, her right hand came up between them and clamped onto his left. The grip was hard, the pads of her fingers callused. A working woman's hands.   
  
She pulled his hand away and dropped it, visibly shaken.   
  
"Don't don't ever touch me there" she whispered tightly. Jack backed off, finally realising that in turning her head, he had been holding her throat with that hand.   
  
"Oh _blast_, he cursed heartfelt. "I'm sorry love"   
  
She seemed very shaken, and he could kick himself for doing that, for not only killing the mood but weighing it down and throwing it overboard as well.  
  
"D'you want to sit down?"  
  
She let herself be guided to the bed and sat down numbly. Jack mentally beat himself up. Not only had she actually wanted him, they had been well on their way to the horizontal dance before he ruined it. He might as well leave now; he remembered too well the dark bruises on her throat when he'd first seen her. They had faded now.  
  
"When did that happen?" Janeen asked suddenly, and he found her looking at the bulletscars again. He stopped berating himself for a moment and realised that she hadn't actually fled his cabin, as he had half expected, and that she was touching him again, gently fingering the discoloured skin.  
  
"'bout seven years ago now, love."  
  
She seemed to contemplate that for a moment, tracing concentric circles around the scars.  
  
"Does it still hurt?"  
  
"Sometimes the rib," – he traced the line along his chest – "twinges a little. But it's long healed, it does not hurt."  
  
"Oh." Her lips were a little swollen from the kissing before, dark pink and tempting. Jack reached out a tentative hand, unsure if she would allow this, and cradled the back of her head. His fingers dug into the thick black curls, caressing the base of her skull. Her eyes drifted shut and she let out a long, shaking breath.   
  
Was that a good sign? He wasn't sure. Jack didn't want to ruin it again. Only as she tilted her head back a little, leaning into the caress, he felt reasonably certain that it would be all right to kiss her.   
  
Her lips parted slightly, allowing him to deepen the kiss, and he leaned in further, one hand still in her hair, the other rubbing her upper arm. She reacted again now, kissing him back, hands around his shoulders. That did not help Jack's balance, and they keeled over onto the bed.  
  
It startled a laugh out of her as they landed side by side, her legs thrown up over his. Not a bad position, Jack decided, and moved in for another kiss. He slid his free hand behind her back and pressed her closer against his body, hand solid just underneath her shoulder blades.   
  
Her breath went fast now, but in a good way he deemed. At least she certainly didn't seem inclined to move away from him. Her chest heaved, and this time he didn't stop himself, but brought a hand between their upper bodies and undid the laces of her bodice.   
  
His lips wandered from her mouth down to her jaw line, and then, knowing this was a risk, Jack trailed down further, marking the skin of her throat with feathery kisses. Janeen laid still, eyes closed and tension in her face, but he could tell she was not afraid. It seemed as if she expected some feeling to surface, but it did not.  
  
"Some day this will be healed," he whispered against the warm skin, bestowing more kisses upon it. He trailed down further, nipping her collarbone, and she raked her nails along his back in startled pleasure, body relaxing once again. Jack grinned into her shoulder, pressing his body closer to her.   
  
His hands slipped underneath the bodice and the short chemise underneath, loosening it further, searching for her ticklish spots. When she yelped, trying to get away from the feather-light caress, he grinned evilly.   
  
"Now now love, turnout is fair play!" he laughed when she squirmed, face darkening, trying to get a hold on his hands. When he kept at it, amused by her wriggles, she suddenly took a deep breath and stilled. He tried again, raking the back of his nails along her sides, but she no longer responded to it. He was surprised at the self control it had to take.  
  
There was a grin on her face as she leaned over his chest, leaning into his shoulders to keep him in place.  
  
"That was _not _nice," she declared, eyes sparkling. Grabbing his hands, she started to lean over to put them by his sides, but he took hold of her elbow and pulled her over onto his chest. Nose to nose now, he grinned.  
  
"Wasn't it?"  
  
She answered to this by straddling his waist. When Jack swallowed dryly, she smirked.  
  
"No."  
  
She took his hands and placed her knees over them on either side of his body, rendering him immobile, or at least immobile for as long as he was willing to play this game. And he _was_ willing, because seeing her take charge in this manner put a spin to the night that he hadn't thought of in his wildest imagination.   
  
She leaned in to nuzzle at his ear, the warm breath making him shiver. He wanted, nay _needed_ his arms now, to pull her close, press the length of his body against hers, but he could not. Tantalisingly slow she trailed downward, lavishing attention to the hollow at the base of his throat, tracing the muscles of his chest with the tip of her tongue.   
  
Jack groaned, desperately trying to resist the urge to pull his hands loose and take over. It wouldn't be difficult. But as tempting as it was, he enjoyed the look on her face too much to stop it. She seemed to enjoy this rare reversal of gender roles, the glint in her eyes promising him he would not regret allowing her this.  
  
As she leaned in again, he caught the end of one of the laces of her bodice between his teeth, and held it as she sat up.  
  
"Be kind to a pirate, love," he grinned, "take it off."  
  
She shifted her hips a little, making him groan anew. The smirk tugging at her lips told him that she knew exactly what she was doing to him. With a teasing glance, she began to pull the laces loose enough to take off the bodice. Holding the thin chemise in place with one hand, she pulled the bodice over her head. She just had not counted on her captive choosing that very moment to revolt.   
  
In a moment he had their positions reversed, Janeen firmly pinned against the bed with her arms still caught in the bodice, he above her. Before she could even protest his mouth locked onto hers, hands working at freeing her arms. Soon as they were loose, her nails were on his back, then ticklishly gentle, then scraping down to make him squirm. She answered his kiss with equal fervour, body arching up against his.  
  
"You pitiless, vicious, evil, cruel cruel woman!" he grinned as he broke the kiss for air. Janeen just laughed. The accusations did not bother her at all. He slid his hands under her back, inside the last layer of clothing.  
  
"So many layers," he contemplated, intrigued for the moment by the shoulder seam of the chemise. "Does it not get tedious?"  
  
He wasn't certain if he was talking about the clothes or about the woman.  
  
She shrugged lightly, but the answer had a definite and dismissive ring to it.   
"They all serve their purpose."  
  
Then, before he could focus more on the tone or the words, she wrapped her legs around his, and he forgot for a time everything but the matter at hand.  
  
  


* * *

T.B.C.

  



	17. Stowaway chapter 17

_[Thank you for your nice reviews Lightning, they made me smile. **Do** tell me about the split infinitive – I'm a second-language speaker and prefer to be told of my mistakes! Stage fright, by the way, is called Topophobia.]  
_

  
  
  
STOWAWAY  
  
_Chapter 17  
_

  
  


* * *

  
  
Captain Jack Sparrow woke up alone.  
  
Not that that didn't happen more often, but this time, this morning, it felt wrong somehow. Folding his hands behind his head, he stared at the ceiling and tried to recall why exactly it should feel that way.  
  
For one thing, he was naked. Not a common occurrence on a pirate ship, where a moment of letting one's guard down could mean the end.  
  
For another thing, he had not slept this deep and peaceful in a long time.  
  
There really ought to be someone Jack blinked and then the memories returned, of Janeen's laughing face above him, and of exactly what she had done to make him groan.  
  
The vivid memory brought its own small groan. Last night had turned out better than his wildest dreams. Janeen had been an active and enthusiastic partner, and he smugly remembered dark eyes spread wide in shock at the height of her passion.  
  
At some point of the evening it had become important that she felt good, and he was pleased that he had succeeded in that.  
  
That brought forth the question where she was now. He remembered drifting off with an arm around her shoulders, spent and utterly content. Evidently she had left at some point when he was asleep, and he marvelled at the fact that it hadn't woken him.  
  
Where was she now?   
  
Had the silly lass run off in a fit of angst, regretting what they had done? Perhaps afraid he'd gotten her with child?  
  
Remembering the brooding mood he had found her in the night before, that did not seem so far fetched  
  
Captain Jack Sparrow turned down the cover, stretching luxuriously. A few lines on his back pulled a bit, and with a smirk he identified them as nail marks. She had certainly not seemed hesitant then it was best to get this conversation over with.   
  
_If_ she hadn't jumped overboard to try her luck with the navy or the smugglers, whoever had won.  
  
Nay she wouldn't, would she?  
  
He slipped into his damp clothes and burst out of his cabin. The sun was just beginning to show its face and the pirates that had been put to the morning watch sat at their posts looking rather bored. The thundering in the distance had stopped at some point during the night, and he grinned with the thought that he had been too distracted to notice. Above the Northern island hung a hint of smoke in the air. It could not be said if that was the town or the ship burning. Perhaps both.  
  
"All right, rouse the crew, I want the anchors aweigh," he ordered Tearlach. The burly pirate disappeared in the forecastle to rouse hung-over men to a state resembling wakefulness.   
  
Jack looked around. No Janeen.   
  
Then he looked up.   
  
Nah, she could wait. First he'd have to get his ship moving and his crew awake enough to climb the rigging. Once they were on open sea and on course again, he'd have time enough to speak with the lass and talk her out of whatever angst she had conjured up.  
  
The storm had died down during the night, and what was left now was a brisk breeze to ruffle the vegetation on the island towering over the Pearl. As the sun rose, the sky turned a brilliant blue, washed clean by the torrents the day before. Fair air, as the Pearl's previous captain would have put it. A good day for getting back on their course toward Grenada.   
  
For a moment, Jack contemplated sending out a boat to see what had become of the navy and the smugglers, but he discarded the idea as too dangerous. The currents near the reef were dangerous to navigate in a small boat, and he was reasonably sure of the outcome anyway – no matter who was left standing, they would have a fair bit of damage. Certainly it would be enough to stall them for weeks, and for the Black Pearl and her crew to disappear safely to the South East.   
  
"Ah! Mister Gibbs!"  
  
The grizzled-looking pirate stumbled up the stairs, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.  
  
"Morning Jack" he muttered, "what's put you in such a fine mood?"  
  
"Now now, Mister Gibbs," Jack waggled a finger at his first mate, "a gentleman does not tell such things."  
  
Gibbs looked puzzled for an instant, then a grin appeared. He said nothing. Jack suddenly noticed that his First Mate was wearing a shirt he had thought discarded months ago. It was a striking indigo with white embroidery on the collar, a fine gift from a woman Gibbs would not speak of. A few months ago the man had been wounded in a boarding, and Jack had thought the shirt had been torn off and discarded.  
  
He shook his head, trying to bring his attention back to the present.  
  
"Now! Let's get us out a' here, shall we? I wan' some men at the sweeps ta get us movin', the rest will raise the anchors and work aloft."   
  
A moment later commands rang out on deck, rousing the drowsy men that emerged from the forecastle. Gibbs directed each to their position while the Captain traced the line of the gullet on one of his charts. It wasn't very long anymore, and they only needed to move a stone's throw to be able to catch some wind. That was fortunate, for they did not have enough men aboard to use the sweeps to move the ship for longer distances.   
  
Before long a rhythmic song picked up below decks as the men ran out the sweeps.  
  
"Anchors aweigh!"  
  
Three men put their weight into operating the anchor windlass. Before long the Pearl sighed softly, indicating that the anchors were loose from the ground and she was at the mercy of the currents once more. For a long moment she teetered precariously toward the sheer rock wall on portside. Then, as the sweeps grabbed water, she began to inch forward.  
  
"Captain! Duncan sez a degree starboard!"  
  
Jack nodded in acknowledgement and adjusted the helm, and Marty ran back to the fore to relay messages between helm and the lookout on the bowsprit.  
  
"Set topgallants!"  
  
The men in each mast nimbly climbed into position and unfurled the highest sails to catch what wind there was. As the canvas billowed gently, Jack eased his Pearl through the narrowest part of the gullet, assisted by the directions relayed by Marty.   
  
Then, finally, the reef on starboard side shrank away, and Gibbs called the men below to take in the sweeps and hurry into the rigging to set the lower and then the upper topsails.  
  
Finally Captain Jack Sparrow expertly eased the Black Pearl away from the island and into open sea, and canvas cracked as it caught the breeze in full. It was mid-morning when the pirate ship once again bore a full set of sails, and she strode across the wind in a brisk pace, as if as impatient to recover lost time as her captain. The waves were still considerable, but the frequency had gone down. It was but a leftover from the storm the previous day, and mostly the Pearl glided over the swells easily.   
  
Once the course was set firmly and Mister Cotton put in charge of the helm, Jack turned his attention to other things.   
  
The galley was a bit disorganised, but after the chaos of the storm not as messed up as he'd feared. Someone had secured the barrels of drinkwater in time to preserve them all, and the food had been safely locked and secured into the various chests and cupboards. Jack found a large piece of sea pie that still smelt good, and collected a lemon and a flask of ale. Wrapping it all in a handy rag, he took his bounty out on deck.  
  
Now, where to look? He gazed up into the rigging and could see no one in the Sparrows' nest, but he knew from experience that if one kept close to the mast, one could not be seen from deck. Then again, she knew it would be the first place he would look, and if she didn't want to be found, she would surely have thought up another place to hide.  
  
Jack considered for a moment to search below. But no. She was infinitely more at ease in the open air, and he could not imagine that she would hide below decks where she would feel contained.  
  
Just as he began to contemplate the myriad places one could hide out on deck, a dark-skinned foot emerged over the edge of the platform. She was up there after all? Grinning, Jack secured the food underneath his sash and climbed up.  
  
He was certain that she had felt his approach through the rigging, but she did not look up when his head appeared over the edge of the platform. He watched her for a moment.  
  
She sat closely against the mast, a good idea with the brisk wind at the moment. Her left leg was folded around the mast, the right leg stretched with the foot dangling over the edge. Her eyes were fixed on the horizon, and she hummed to herself rather tunelessly.   
  
"You're sorry?" Jack said as he climbed over the edge to sit next to her.   
  
"Hmm?" she looked over to him distractedly. "Sorry?"  
  
He tried to decide if she was repeating him, or asking him to repeat his words.   
  
"Yes, sorry. For what we did."  
  
"Oh that."   
  
It sounded almost dismissive.   
  
"Nah, not sorry. Why?"  
  
Jack Sparrow felt his eyebrows climb his forehead.   
"Why? Because it all happened in a bit of a rush? Because I might have gotten you with child?"  
  
It idly occurred to him that this was a completely insane situation – he was giving reasons to a woman why she should be upset about bedding him!  
  
She shrugged, and Jack felt as if his male pride was being used as a doormat by those dainty dark feet.  
  
"I wanted it. It was nice." Before he could reply to that she continued, "and I can't have a child anyway, no danger of that."  
  
Curiosity won out over ego for the moment.  
"Why is that, lass?"  
  
"I'm barren," she said simply, not look looking at him. It did not seem to be something that bothered her. "That's what caused all the misery back then." She gestured idly in the air, "when I was married."  
  
Talking about that did not seem to bother her as it had done before. Her tone was as if she was speaking of something far away, almost in another world. Perhaps, to her, it was. Jack turned his attention back to the question with which he'd climbed the mast.  
  
"So lass, if you aren't sorry and can't be with child, why did you run?"  
  
"Run?" she gave him a nonplussed look. "I just wanted some air."  
  
"Oh."  
  
He couldn't begin to explain to himself why that smarted. He had gained out of the encounter what he wanted, hadn't he? The evening had been most enjoyable. Just thinking of it made him But Janeen seemed so cold that he wasn't about to suggest a repeat exercise.  
  
If he believed her, she had wanted it, enjoyed it, and walked out afterward because she wanted some air.  
  
That did make perfect sense. He'd done it himself more times than he cared to count. Enjoy the evening, and leave while the other one slept. Then why did it bother him so that _she_ had chosen to do so?  
  
Thankfully he was distracted from those contemplations when the smugglers' town came into view in the distance. Smoke plumes hung above the fort, and in the bay before it the navy ship still lay. Jack grabbed his spyglass and took a closer look.   
  
Yes, the ship still floated, but that was about all that could be said. Its mizzen mast had come down, along with a lot of the rigging, and it seemed to lay deeper into the water than it had before, as if it was making water somewhere. The sails that were still up were riddled with holes. He smirked.   
  
"How is it there?" Janeen asked softly.  
  
"Looks like both of them had a bit of damage, lass."  
  
He silently handed her the spyglass, and she whistled softly when she found the ship into focus.   
  
"Doesn't look like they'll be pursuing us anytime soon"  
  
That reminded him of the ships' articles, and for some reason of the food. He took it out, putting the bundle in the hollow of her bent knee to avoid dropping it.   
  
"'ungry?" he grinned. She nodded, and he broke the sea pie into even pieces. The lemon he cut in halves, and squeezed one out into his mouth. Janeen looked at him with a questioning look.  
  
"Well ye don' wan anything like scurvy, do ye?" he grinned. Her answering smile was a bit reserved, but she took the other half and followed his example.  
  
They finished the meal in a silence that was if not companionable, at least no longer hostile.   
  
"Neen!"   
  
They both looked down and found Mister Kursar, the topman, in the midsail stay. To Jack's utter shock, the man addressed not his captain, but the stowaway.  
  
"Aye?" she called back.  
  
"Tearlach said te teach ye de riggin'!"  
  
She glanced over to him, perhaps waiting for acknowledgement, and he made a dismissive gesture.   
"By all means, learn the rigging."  
  
Flashing him a quick smile, she clambered down to the dark-skinned topman, who immediately began explaining something to her. Jack wondered, for a moment, if their shared skin colour made it also easier to share understanding.   
  
Suddenly, it seemed, she was integrated with his crew a lot more than he had been aware of. Back on deck, he asked Gibbs about it.  
  
"Aye, she asked what she could do and I gave her some splicing. There's enough o' that, you know how we're behind with maintenance. If Grenada is pleasant we could use a few days tarring and oiling and renewing the riggin'."  
  
"But why teach her the rigging?"  
  
Mister Gibbs shrugged, obviously not seeing anything strange about it.   
"You said she was to make herself useful, and since she's up there half the time anyway, might as well teach her how to lend a hand."  
  
"Oh."  
  
He couldn't explain why this irritated him. It wasn't as if he had not planned to have someone show her a few more chores. And he liked initiative in his men, he really did. But he hadn't expected Gibbs to cave in to her!  
  
"Tell me mate, since when do you suddenly approve o' havin' the girl aboard? Only days ago you were dead against it."  
  
The grizzled pirate had the sense to look shame-faced. Then without a word he half turned and showed Jack the neat rows of tiny stitches in his shirt. Jack had been right – the garment _had _been torn off, but someone had repaired it with the greatest care.   
  
"Ah. Bribed, I see. You're growing weak in yer old age, mate."  
  
Mister Gibbs grinned. Jack tilted his head a fraction, letting the breeze lift his hair and cool his neck. Now what was it?  
  
Oh yes.  
  
He needed to check their course again, see how long it would take them to Grenada and if their current supplies would last them. They had taken some food and water from the Dutch ship, but not all of it – that blasted mercy of his again. It might mean that the water rations would have to get a bit tighter yet to make it in one haul.  
  
Dwelling on his captain responsibilities distracted him from conflicting thoughts. Last night had been simple. He wanted to keep it that way.  
  
"Ey Gibbs, if ye see Whittle, send 'im to me, will ye? And the lass when she's done aloft!" he called back as he disappeared into his cabin.  
  
"Aye cap!" he heard faintly as he pulled the door shut.   
  
He hadn't noticed the night before, but the storm had upset the corner which held his desk and charts, and it took a few moments to pick everything off the floor and return his 'office' back to its familiar organised disorder. When it was done, he pulled the rickety chair out, checked that an ancient bit of string still held the third leg in place, and sat down.  
  
First there was the log. He dutifully wrote down the details of navigation and wind, and then added in a painstakingly careful scrawl:  
  
_Led thee navy intoo smugglers gullet. Oops. Myght bee a goode idea to stay clear of these area fore a tyme  
_  
He stared at the words for a long moment. Then he added:  
  
_Still headed fore Greenada  
_  
Nodding to himself, Jack carefully stored away the pencil – a rare steal from a merchant-ship some months ago – and set to checking the maps and charts against their position.   
  
A knock at the door.  
  
"C'min!" he called, not looking up. The door swung open, and a scrawny young man entered the cabin.  
  
"Ah, Whittle. You 'aven't signed the ship's articles yes, so let us amend that, eh?"  
  
The youth nodded, pushing lanky brown hair out of his eyes. He rarely said much, and that was something jack appreciated in new crewmembers. The ones that watched and listened tended to learn the ropes fastest.   
  
"Can ye write?"  
  
"No." the boy said softly. "My name is-"  
  
"No need, lad." Jack interrupted. "We only care for the name you chose here."  
  
He carefully wrote it down in his most legible script. 'Whittle' was last in a line of pirates' names. Some of them had notes after them – dates of death or departure – and some, such as Gibbs and Tearlach and Kursar, were still present.  
  
"Just make your mark 'ere, lad."  
  
Jack watched as Whittle made a careful X behind his name, and nodded in satisfaction.  
"Welcome to the crew, lad! And now, back to work."  
  
As he turned to watch the boy go, Jack found Janeen standing next to the door, leaning against the bulkhead with her arms crossed in front of her body. She had a vaguely awaiting look, as if she wasn't sure what she was there for, but expected not to like it. Her attitude was in sharp contrast with the memories of the bulkhead she leant against, the very same one where they had been having so much fun the day before. Jack pressed his nails into the palm of his hand in an effort not to think of that.  
  
"Ey lass, why don't you come 'ere for a moment?"  
  
"What for?"  
  
He could tell this wasn't going to be one of their easier encounters.  
  
"To sign me ship's articles. Thought it was about time you did."  
  
An uncertain hand fluttered to her jaw as she contemplated this.  
  
"What does that mean?"  
  
"That yer signed up as part of me crew."  
  
"Oh."  
  
Jack drummed the edge of his desk in irritation. He had thought this was what she wanted – to be accepted as crewmember at least until Grenada. It would acknowledge her as a respected part of his crew, no longer a stowaway but someone with rights as well as duties.  
  
"What if I don't want that?" she said softly.   
  
Exasperated, Captain Jack Sparrow thumped the desk.   
"Well what the devil DO you want?!" he shouted, "because I can _certainly_ arrange for you to be dropped off somewhere near land, if that's more convenient to you, _Miss_ Janeen!"  
  
He wasn't sure what he had hoped that she would do. Perhaps slap him. Certainly the sharp sting of a slap would have been better than this icy expression on her face. She pushed away from the bulkhead, advancing with angry steps, and grabbed the pencil from where it lay. If he had expected her to angrily scribble down her name he was wrong, but she pressed pencil to paper and made a thick, furious X.  
  
Without a word she dropped the pencil and turned on her heel to disappear.  
  
Jack let out a frustrated breath he didn't know he had been holding, and carefully wrote her name in front of her mark. For better or for worse, she was part of the crew now, and under his command.  
  
  
**

T.B.C.  


**  
  


* * *

_Reviews? *begs*  
_


	18. Stowaway chapter 18

[Thank you for your nice reviews Lightning, they made me smile. Do tell me about the split infinitive – I'm a second-language speaker and prefer to be told of my mistakes! Stage fright, by the way, is called Topophobia.]

  


* * *

**

Stowaway  


**Chapter 18

  


  
The next few days were peaceful.

Not in the sense of tranquillity, Jack mused, but more as in a truce. He stayed with his duties on the quarterdeck, and Janeen busied herself with splicing or tarring the foredeck or aloft in the rigging. She had arranged a blanket for herself and slept in the galley.

It made him a bit sad that things had to go this way, but moreover it annoyed him greatly that she chose to ruin the amiable atmosphere on the ship. The men could feel that something was up between their captain and the woman, but none had addressed the issue as yet. As far as Jack knew, she was treated with mild indifference. Her curious relationship with their captain seemed to ensure that they would neither harm her nor get overly friendly, and that suited Jack just fine. 

What frustrated him was that he couldn't work out what it was that she wanted.

What frustrated him more was that he couldn't work out what it was that _he_ wanted, either. 

Anamaria had at times been like this, and it had not bothered him in the least. She was her own man woman, she could avoid him if she wished. They were phases; times she needed space for herself. He had regretted it at those times, but it had never unsettled him.

Janeen didn't unsettle him. She irritated him. 

What irritated him was that his bed smelt of her, all sweet and feminine, and that his dreams were full of heat.

Infuriated him, in fact.

Meanwhile she seemed unaffected. Hair tied back with a rag, knees of her trousers caked with pine tar, she worked with a silent fervour that perhaps belied her outward calm. Even the pile of old lines began to slink as she sat against the base of the foremast and spliced as if her very life depended on it.

She didn't look at him, or if she did, she was better at observing unnoticed than he was. After the second day, the crew included her in the watches, figuring that as long as she was up anyway, she might as well allow another his sleep.

Three days after she had signed the ship's articles, Captain Jack Sparrow could stand it no longer. It was nearing midnight, and a bright, blue-veined mood shone its light onto the deck of the Pearl. The first night watch was in position, and Janeen was to be in the next watch; one that began at two in the night. While the others slept, she sat next to the pile of old lines, fingers flashing as she spliced two recycled lines together. 

He couldn't help noticing she was getting thinner. Her skin seemed an off colour too, or was that a trick of the moonlight? He wasn't sure. 

"You know lass, f'r someone sleepin' in the galley ye seem awfully skinny."

Her shoulders jerked, and Jack realised she had not heard his approach. Not that he had been making an effort to be silent – perhaps she had simply been too lost in thought.

"Really?" she replied, and the tone said clearly that she wasn't in the mood for conversation. Well, that was fine by Jack. It wasn't as if he knew what to say. He sat down on the other side of the pile of lines and took some pieces to splice. It had been a while since he had done any of the kind, and he admired for a moment the hard, dark fingers that manipulated the rough material as if she had been doing it for years.

He didn't speak. Every time before that he had tried, it had only made matters worse, so he simply sat there, and spliced lines. There was something relaxing about the task; it reduced all thought to the manipulation of the rough material. Up, under there, pull tight, next strand.

Janeen waved her hand in the air for a moment, joints crackling. She seemed unconcerned by his presence, but he expected that was acted. If she were at ease, he doubted she would have applied herself to the task at hand with quite this much vehemence. 

He idly wondered what she was plotting. Perhaps she'd try to strip the ship of its valuables and slip off to Grenada. The thought of trying to sneak away with pockets jangling with gold amused him.

She had to be thinking of _something._ It annoyed him that where most people were an open book to him, she might as well have sprung from desert sands for all he understood of her. 

He opened his mouth to ask why she had been so dismayed with signing the articles. He had thought she would be pleased with the opportunity. She certainly seemed to nurse a new-found love for sailing.... but asking her now would probably only result in more irritation. 

His fingers moved without interference from his brain now. Funny how these things came back to you. Up, under there, pull tight, next strand.

What _was _she planning? To simply disappear once they berthed in Grenada seemed somehow too... too mundane for someone like her. He wondered if she would continue her scam with a next governor, or if she would turn to a less dangerous profession. Certainly she seemed to have enough skills to find an honest occupation, and the ability to quickly learn new ones - but with her colouring, it would not be easy to find someone who would employ her. For white people the look of far Africa in her features was an unacceptable impurity - for ex-slaves and island folk there was too much likeness to their oppressors and invaders in her.

He watched her covertly, noting that she used her teeth to tighten a reluctant strand of rope. There was something grim about it, as if she felt that as long as she kept busy with the splicing, things would be all right.   
He idly wondered what she would do when all the work was done, and a broad grin split his face at the thought. Well, there was plenty of sanding, tarring and painting to be done, wasn't there? If she thought work was a good therapy, he would be sure to provide her with all the odd jobs eternally reserved for 'some other time' by his crew...

She had hard hands. He remembered the calluses on her fingers clearly, and wondered how much of that came from honest work, and how much came from simple surviving. He had at one point considered her capable of murdering an entire crew. Did he still?

Jack pondered that for a moment. Perhaps capable, but not willing. From what he understood she had killed to survive; she didn't seem the type to kill for personal gain.

He idly wondered how long she would be able to keep up this insane dash from trouble to scam, managing just barely, but hanging on to life with the grim determination to make it.

He just wondered _where_ she wanted to make it. Did she even know?

Jack looked down on the rope in his hands and frowned at the symbolism of it. Getting spliced. For one moment, a few days ago as he lay with the woman in his arms, the thought of sticking with just one woman had not seemed appalling to him. He wondered if that was the reason she seemed to hold some sort of power over him, and decided that instant that he wasn't ever going to let someone have power over him. 

If she had changed her mind about enjoying his presence, he wasn't going to keep trying like a kicked mongrel. Captain Jack Sparrow wasn't about to let himself curbed by a woman. 

He dropped the line and stood abruptly, arms reaching out to find support for his balance in the air. Grenada, soon. Where the gold left over after the Pearl's repairs would surely provide some company that would be willing, entertaining, and above all _uncomplicated_. Setting his face into a grim smile, Jack strode off toward the quarterdeck.

Had he looked back, which he did not, he might have noticed the way Janeen hung her head, hands balled into fists in utter frustration. More likely he would have put it down to anger with his presence, and been glad of his decision to dismiss her from his thoughts. 

  


* * *

T.B.C  



	19. Stowaway chapter 19

Stowaway   
chapter 19  


* * *

Come morning the charts showed clearly how Grenada neared, and Jack was glad of it. What he could really use was a stiff drink, a good bath in water that wasn't salt, and some pleasant company to take his mind off things.  
  
In fact all of the crew was in high spirits as he announced they would reach the port in just over a day. The wind, however, doused the jubilant atmosphere.   
  
By nightfall, they were sailing at just barely two knots, and Jack ordered the men to the sweeps. This was met with decidedly unhappy faces, and it even came to him that most of the crew preferred arriving in Grenada a few days later if it meant not having to work the oars.   
  
"Get going, ye scabrous dogs!" he called down the hatch, not sharing their opinion about delay. He wanted to get to Grenada, so Janeen could leave. Then maybe he could find peace on his own ship again.  
  
They got little further that night, and all through the next day the men rowed, grumbling and cursing. While the men paused the speed of the ship would crawl to a near halt. Late afternoon the wind died altogether.   
  
The sea was calm and flat, with tiny waves licking the hull of the Black Pearl. This was a sailor's nightmare, and knowing they were within a good days' sailing of Grenada did little to improve the mood aboard. The only comfort it gave was that they could probably get there by rowing before supplies ran out completely…  
  
No one escaped their turn at the oars, and to avoid an uprising Jack himself also stripped down to the waist and did his turn. He heard that Janeen had also offered to row, but had been excused on the grounds that she probably wasn't strong enough to make a difference. That made Jack smirk. He wondered if she had been affronted or glad of the excuse, or perhaps both.  
  
By midnight Gibbs came below deck to bring the men some water, and to speak to his captain.  
  
"Grenada is gettin' real close now Jack, but I reckon we best wait for daylight to do the last part 'o this," he said. "You know how treacherous the entrance is there."  
  
"Aye, you're right," he nodded. This one night won't make the difference."  
  
His decision to adjourn the latest rotation of rowers was met with a roar of approval, and the men scampered up the ladders to get on deck. Spirits were high with the knowledge that they would finally get to port come the next day, but most of the men were exhausted. After the sea-anchors had been lowered, it quickly grew quiet in the forecastle.  
  
Jack took his position at the helm, leaning back in his chair. His shoulders ached with weariness, but he was comfortably exhausted. If he just closed his eyes, his mind drifted nowhere in particular.   
  
He really ought to stay awake, a small voice nagged. But the Pearl rode her sea anchors without much enthusiasm, and the sea was flat calm, and they were not in any established sailing routes. His eyes drifted shut, and a deep, comfortable sleep claimed him.  
  
...  
  
...  
  
A soft splash disturbed Captain Jack Sparrow's slumber, and he shifted a bit, unwilling to submerge from his hazy half-sleep. No further sounds could be heard for a time, and he sank back to a deeper dream.  
  
Suddenly soft footsteps came up the stairs to the quarterdeck, where they halted. Was it someone real or was it part of a dream? Jack frowned in his sleep. On occasion the cursed skeletons of his former crew still walked on deck, haunting his dreams. But this was the soft padding of bare feet, not the hollow clacking of bare bone on wood.  
  
His eyes drifted open, dreamily staring into the rigging of the mizzen mast. The sails had been furled; they had done them no good that day. The lines hung limply down from the yards. His gaze dreamily wandered down the mast, and suddenly a face appeared in his line of sight. The moonlight cast the lines of her face into sharp relief. He couldn't see her eyes.  
  
Nothing happened for a time. Jack was not sure if he dreamt or not, but was afraid to break the spell by moving. She just stood there, looking at him. He thought he discerned the shape of a knife-handle in her belt. For a moment he wondered if she had come to finish him off, but there was nothing threatening in her stance.   
  
She just stood, and watched. Her face expressionless, her stance firm. There was something determined about her, he thought idly. Something that was different than it had been the past few days. Jack smiled dreamily. It was as if the wounded bird that had landed on deck had finally recovered, and was about to set off on its own again.   
  
After a time, his eyes drifted shut, heeding the powerful call of sleep.

  
  


The next time Jack opened his eyes, it was morning. He looked around blearily, that strange dream fresh in his thoughts. It wasn't often that so little happened in his sleep. More often the dreams were nightmares, and even if they did not cause him to wake up sweating and out of breath, they were rarely peaceful. A strange shiver crawled up his spine at the memory of Janeen standing there, just… looking at him.  
  
He wondered what she had wanted, and if she had found it.  
  
He remembered with chilling clarity that for a moment, _he_ had known what he wanted.  
  
He had wanted her to stay. He had wanted her to walk that enticingly cat-like walk toward him and really see him. Not the furtive looks or the coolly calculating gazes, but that focussed look in her dark brown eyes that said that he had her undivided attention.   
  
He had balked from that thought away even in his dream, and he did it again now. He _didn't_ want that – he wanted uncomplicated company that entertained him and then left him alone.  
  
Janeen didn't leave him alone, whether she was aware of it or not.  
  
He closed his eyes again, but rest evaded him as those thoughts churned around his brain. Women came and went; that was the way it always had been. Then why did it bother him now?  
  
He'd never before _minded _a woman so much.  
  
That was a frightening realisation.  
  
Dismissing the thought with force, Jack jumped up and shouted for the crew to raise the anchors and get rowing. Men hurried to work the windlass, others disappeared below decks to take up the oars. In the distance the contours of land could be seen, and the men were determined to spend the night drinking and wenching in Grenada, not stuck aboard the ship.  
  
Jack stalked back and forth the quarterdeck, annoyed beyond words with the lack of wind and the unrest in his mind. If they'd only get to Grenada, she would be gone and he would be able to put her out of his mind. If only they'd get to Grenada, this bizarre affliction would be lifted from his mind and he would be able to think of the things a pirate captain was supposed to think of, such as his ship, his crew and in which tavern was the most fun and debauchery.  
  
To take his mind of these things he took another turn at the rowing benches, working off his frustration. He could not see their progress, but at least it felt as if he was doing something to advance the situation.   
  
It was also comforting to hear the crew tell tales of past adventures; strong tales and stronger claims. Some things were still normal.  
  
It was good that they had bounty to spend in Grenada, for the Pearl needed extensive maintenance to her rigging and hull. Jack would need to sell some of the loot that was stowed below decks; some of it was fabric, so he would need to find a seamstress who didn't mind fabric with a shady past. He'd also need to locate a baker to ensure they had a good supply of seabiscuit, arrange some barrels to be repaired, buy a few crates to stow spare lines in…  
  
Now he thought of it, the spare inner jib needed repairing and the main topgallant wouldn't hold in a good storm anymore either.  
  
There was a lot to do. He also needed a new shirt, and trousers if he could get a good deal somewhere. His spare clothes were mostly riddled by holes and gashes, some torn the shreds to staunch a wound.   
  
If they would be landlocked for a time while the Black Pearl was given a good treatment, he might as well use the time to get his own matters sorted out.  
  
Actually, some of those shirts were salvageable. And since Janeen was still on board…  
  
He wondered for a moment how she would react if he asked her to repair his clothes. Perhaps it would finally break through the shield of indifference she had put up. That wouldn't be such a bad thing. Jack Sparrow could deal with not being liked, but he hated being ignored.  
  
Just past noon he let Mister Duncan take his place at the oars and returned to the quarterdeck to check on their progress. It was less than he had hoped for, but Grenada was now clearly in sight through his spyglass, baking in the windless afternoon. On deck it was also stifling hot, and with no canvas up to provide shade and the sailing speed of a stranded jellyfish, there was no refuge from the heat.  
  
Janeen was not in her usual place near the bowsprit. Considering how hot it was there, that didn't surprise him overmuch.   
  
Would she be up in the sparrow's nest, perhaps hoping to catch whatever breeze there was? Captain Jack Sparrow stared up into the rigging when a slight tickle in the back of his mind told him something was wrong.   
  
Drawing a knife from his belt, he looked around quickly, senses heightened by the shudder down his spine. He was captain of his ship, but something… something fundamental… was _wrong _with it. Jack quietly padded over to the hatch and listened to the sounds of the crew rowing, chatting and singing. They seemed to be all right at least. He held very still, but heard or saw no one on deck.  
  
That was not to say no one would be there. He put away the knife and drew his cutlass instead, and began a careful round along the railing. They were near land now, though he had thought it uninhabited. It wasn't unthinkable that some fool had rowed up to the Pearl to see if there was anything worth stealing aboard. Especially since it was clear that most of the crew was busy rowing…  
  
He glanced down over the railing, but saw no boat in the water along the starboard side. His gaze once again swept the length of the deck, hoping to catch someone in motion, but it suddenly halted at a point on deck on the port side of the ship.  
  
_That_ was what was wrong. Jack let out a stream of heartfelt curses, and sheathed his cutlass.   
  
On portside, the winches that operated the boat were extended. The ropes hung limply over the railing.  
  
The boat was gone.

  


  
  
Captain Jack Sparrow couldn't have been more annoyed if he had tried.   
  
Janeen had disappeared. The few things possessions she had were gone, as well as one of the last seabiscuits and a flask of water. When he checked his cabin, the blade that he had taken from her was no longer there.   
  
One of his boats gone.   
  
He wasn't sure what angered him the most. Janeen was gone, but she would have left anyway. The boat, however, was an essential part of his ship and he would have to get a new one in Grenada. Money he could have used for better things.  
  
Perhaps the most infuriating thing was that she had been one step ahead of him _again_. Jack wasn't used to being outmanoeuvred.  
  
Worse, he'd have to pay someone to repair his shirts.  
  
"Keep going, ye swabs!" he bellowed down the hatch, egging on weary men. The full crew was down there, save Mister Cotton at the helm. They probably could use a break, but Jack wasn't willing to waste more time. The afternoon was already running toward an end.  
  
"Ye missed yer callin' as slavemaster!" a complaint went up, but he could not tell who it was.   
  
"I can see port from 'ere!" he called back down. "An' I could really use a good dinner tonight, what say you?"  
  
His answer was a murmur of agreement, and the oars began to move faster again.  
  
Jack punched the railing in irritation. The Black Pearl held four boats, but two of those were out of use. He'd not bothered getting them repaired so far, because his entire crew fit into the two boats they did have – a 12-foot boat that could hold six people, and a 22-feet boat that could hold twelve, if they packed up tightly.   
  
Janeen had taken the smaller one, which had been suspended and ready for launching as it usually was. Now the crew would have to pile into the remaining boat to get to Grenada, because it wasn't likely that a pirate ship could find a safe place in the harbour itself.   
  
Jack shook his hands a few times, trying to get rid of the anger, and turned toward the quarterdeck. They were near enough now to start applying himself to the course once more, for the last part was full of reefs and shallows.  
  
"What 'appened to the lil' boat?" Mister Gibbs greeted him as he came up the stairs. Jack whirled toward his first mate, finger raised until just under the man's face.   
  
"_Don't _-- ask" he spat at the elder man. When Gibbs said nothing more, he lowered his hand, took over the wheel, and shook his head a few times, letting some cool air brush his neck.  
  
Yes.   
  
Now – guiding the Black Pearl into the right channel. He grabbed the most detailed chart he had of the area and tried to make sense of the symbols. Then, with an eye on the new compass, he adjusted the course a fraction.   
  
"Mister Gibbs, I need two men on the lookout, please," he said without looking up. The first mate let out a sigh and ran down the stairs without a word.   
  
It took several more hours of shouting directions, warnings and adjustments across the deck before the Pearl was lines up to her Captain's satisfaction. Below decks the men were singing a rowdy song in an effort to keep spirits from flagging.  
  
By now Grenada lay before them, silent in the crushing heat of late afternoon.  
  
"Guess we best drop anchor about there…" he muttered to himself. Then, lifting his face to the Sparrow's nest: "Tops! How clear are we on starboard?"  
  
"There's a reef off the starboar' beam!" came back the disembodied voice of Mister Kursar. "But yer clear further a'ead!"  
  
The Black Pearl slowly eased her way into an uninhabited indent in the coastline. When Jack deemed it a fine enough position, he bellowed "Drop anchors!" and a cheer went up below deck as the anchorchains rattled through the ports.   
  
"All hands on deck!"  
  
The command was superfluous, for the men already streamed on deck as he spoke.   
  
"Now hold up you lot!" he called out as a few men began to put the last remaining boat into the winches.  
"I'll need a guard on the ship. Three men will stay on board to be relieved tomorrow at noon!"  
A few of the newer members booed, but the crewmembers that had been with the Pearl for some time hushed them. They intended to stay with the ship, and understood the need to guard it. The Black Pearl wasn't just their captain's ship, it was also their home.  
  
"Volunteers? Those who take the first watch won't have any other watches for a week."  
  
That caused a tentative hand to go up. Mister Duncan, seeing that it was his friend Matelot, put his hand up as well. Jack looked around the group and his eyes were caught by Mister Cotton, who nodded.  
  
"All right, we have our first watch! Keep yer eyes open and fire one of the deckguns if there's cause fer alarm. Everybody gets a share of their cash now, I'll pay out the rest just soon as I have sold the loot. 'ave fun!"  
  
Before long the rest of the crew was piled into the remaining boat, one of the leaking boats tied to it so that it could be repaired in port. The third vessel had been deemed irrepairable and would be dismantled so that the wood could be used. Four men set to rowing them to shore with considerably more enthusiasm than they had displayed earlier that day.  
  
A roar of approval went up when the boat was finally tied up at the twilit docks of Grenada, and Jack wished his men happy drinking.  
  
The first rowdy tavern he encountered looked attractive enough, and straightening his battered tricorn hat, Jack threw himself in the comforting fray.

  


  
  
"Hello love!" the woman whispered huskily into his ear. He put his arm around her, and she draped herself over his lap. She was tall, and looked as if meals were not a regular occurrence. Her dress showed a lot of chest, but little bosom. No wonder she chased instead of letting herself be chased…  
Not that that bothered Jack. He grinned at Gibbs, who was two-thirds into a cup of rum, and let his hands wander.   
"Wha's yer name?" he asked, as she pretended to enjoy his explorations.  
  
"Chrystal." She wiggled her hips, pressing herself into his lap. "D'ye wanna ge' a room?"  
  
"Goo' plan," he nodded, getting up while keeping a firm grip on her behind. Not that there was a lot to hold on to. Chrystal started to move to the back of the tavern. Jack noted the firm grip on his wrist, as if she worried that he'd change his mind.  
  
The dingy room was the same as the uncountable dingy backrooms he'd seen before. There was a ratty bed, an unsteady chair, and a sputtering lamp. Chrystal looked at him expectantly as soon as she'd closed the door behind him. It took a moment to realise she expected him to jump her.  
  
It was then that he realised he didn't actually find her attractive. Not that that usually bothered him, but there was something about the way the dress hung about her body and the frantic, almost desperate way she pressed herself into him, hoping to arouse him.  
  
He suddenly found he wasn't aroused at all.  
  
That could be the drink, though it usually took a lot more rum to achieve this effect.   
  
"Look..." he began unsteadily, taking her bony wrist to stop her from rubbing his groin. "I don.... ri' now...disin't a gud'i-idea....."  
  
She looked so crestfallen that he felt as if he'd kicked her.   
"Look lass, wha' was t' rate?"  
  
"Four shillings," she said, all pleasantness gone from her face. Jack dug around in his pockets and produced two shillings.  
  
"'Ere, ye were grea'. Go get yeself sum grub.."  
  
She looked as if she wasn't sure if he was trying to scam her. Then, an angry light in her eyes, she snatched the coin from his hand and flounced out of the room.  
  
Jack suddenly felt lost, unsure what to do. He didn't really understand what he had just done, and he didn't want to think about it. What he wanted was to get drunk - no, he was already drunk, he wanted to get drunk_er_ - but the tavern had suddenly lost its appeal.   
  
He looked around the dingy room, moved to sit on the bed, decided it was too disgusting to touch, and made for the door. Where could he go? Back to the Pearl of course. But it was a long row back to his ship, and he wasn't exactly sober either. Getting their remaining boat stuck on a reef wouldn't improve the situation.   
Balling his hands into fists, he cursed himself for leaving the Pearl at all. He had so looked forward to Grenada, and it had turned out decidedly.... he grasped for a word. _Disappointing_, that was it.   
  
He stumbled through the narrow hallway toward what he hoped would be an exit. It led into an alley filled with rubbish and things he didn't want to have a closer look at. The smell was indescribable.   
  
Once out into the open, Jack wandered toward the dock without thinking, drawn, as always, by the sea. The moon shone gently on the calm water, reflected in the myriad small waves. He stood there for a time, not thinking of anything in particular.  
  
"Ey captain!" a voice called out suddenly, and Jack startled, not sure how long he'd been standing there.   
  
"Over 'ere!" the voice called again, and Jack spun around, trying to locate the source. Finally he saw Marty. Off to the side of the docks was a small stretch of beach, and here a fire had been lit. Around it three men hung, eating and drinking.   
  
It looked welcoming enough, so he ambled over. The men, all on their way to oblivion from the looks of it, just acknowledged him with a wave, and drank on. Jack flopped down near the fire and gratefully accepted the bottle Moises passed on to him. He stared into the fire, trying to block out all thought, and when he finally succeeded he lay back and slept.

* * *

There, hope you can live with that. Long chapter! No way I'm going to get there in 20 chapters now, it'll be more like 22 I reckon. But I am on my way again, couldn't resist a plot that's so close to resolving itself... Reviews, as always, very welcome indeed. How do you feel Jack is throughout this chapter?

Cheers,  
Arwen Lune


	20. Stowaway chapter 20

[Wow, an update! I'm having a hard time enthusing the muses for this one, so any sort of feedback would be very welcome.]

.

Stowaway  
Chapter 20  


Waking up after a night of boozing never was Jack's favourite moment, and being woken up by loud dockworkers didn't improve matters at all. He blearily opened his eyes and found the sun barely up. 

The fire had gone out, and the other men lay haphazardly around it. _They_ had no trouble sleeping through the noise, Jack noted with irritation. 

He checked to see that he had not been robbed during the night and unsteadily got to his feet. Right. From the looks of things, it was a market day and that suited him just fine. He'd find someone to repair the second boat, buy some provisions, look around for buyers for the loot, and then go to his ship with the second watch. 

Or perhaps it would be better to buy a new boat now. The repairs would take a few days, and it was somewhat inconvenient to have only one boat while they were in Grenada. Time to find a willing shipwright then; at least that was one person who was likely to be awake at this time of day. 

Captain Jack Sparrow straightened his hat, patted his pockets, and aimed himself at the busiest area of the docks. 

It wasn't until after he had finished his business that he realised something about Grenada. The cooper was a black man. So was his apprentice. The shipwright had employed several black men who did not seem to be slaves. Now that Jack looked around, he noticed how many of the faces were slaves or ex-slaves, and he remembered that on this island, they outnumbered the white settlers three to one. 

A stray thought brought up that this would make it easier for Janeen to find a job, but he dismissed it ruthlessly. He wasn't going to think of her anymore. 

Jack ambled back to the little beach and poked Marty and Moises until they moved. 

"Oi, you lot, getup, bunch'a lazy dogs!" he called cheerfully. "I need ye te help me carry some stuff." 

He watched with gleeful amusement as the two men climbed to their feet, muttering and cursing. It was not until he promised them breakfast that they became more enthusiastic. 

Market was well underway, and he entertained himself with haggling until he had lemons and oranges for a good price. The dealer in spices was interested in the small casket of nutmeg aboard the Black Pearl. Jack promised to come by later to arrange the deal.  
When it neared noon the three men were burdened under a variety of fruits, bread and other foodstuffs. Back at the boat they found Mister Gibbs together with two other crewmembers, who agreed to take the next watch, and the whole company was soon on its way toward the Black Pearl. 

As the men pulled the boat through the water Jack reflected that he had intended to go back in the afternoon to see if he could get his clothes repaired – and to sell off those bolts of cloth. However now he could see his Pearl there in the small inlet, gently riding her sea-anchors, he felt a strong reluctance to return to the hustle and bustle of the city. It would keep until tomorrow. 

Back on his own ground his spirits immediately rose, even though the sea was still flat and limp. Climbing up to the masthead he found the remains of a land breeze and let it waft around his head. 

He still wasn't ready to consider what had happened the night before, so Jack firmly thrust his thoughts to the future. They were not far off a sizeable trade route, and with cunning and care he might be able to milk a few cows before he attracted the attention of anyone very important. 

He needed more crew. And more shot and powder. And paint, the Pearl could use some attention in that department. And the backstays were starting to wear, he'd have to put some of the men to winding and tarring new ones. Come to think of it, a lot of the sails had blown out during the storm and they were flying spares; if he ran into a sailmaker… and a few bolts of sailcloth always came in handy too. 

888888888 

It was five days before he even thought of his clothes again; repairs and provisions kept him that busy. Jack revelled in the work, in making his Pearl shipshape again, and if he commanded the repairs with not quite as much zeal as a navy commander, that was only because he knew that pirates could not be commanded as navy sailors could. Some of the crew worked as hard as he did and needed no encouragement; Gibbs and Tearlach and Mister Cotton seemed to find as much enjoyment in returning the Black Pearl to her former state as Jack did. 

Under their hands the ship turned from a ragged-down old thing into a fine seaworthy ship, with catheads and jibboom replaced, her hull scraped and ridded of algae and weed, more than a mile of rigging replaced, decks polished and oiled and where necessary renewed, and new hatches throughout. Mister Crimp, who usually did the carpentry aboard, hired two carpenters' mates and started on the work in the hold, replacing all the temporary fixes with new wood and reinforcing the hull as best as they could without the ship in a dry-dock. 

All this was still underway when he grabbed his breeches one morning, managed to poke his big toe through a hole that had been forming, and tear off the entire trouserleg. He stared at it with irritated bemusement. 

"Well _that _will make people stop and look…" he stated to the world in general, observing that the remaining garment went beyond even a pirate's hazy sense of decency. 

It took a long moment to come to him that these were, in fact, his last wearable breeches. That was it. Today was going to be the day of acquiring new clothes. 

Just as soon as he had borrowed something to wear. 

888888888 

Mornings didn't generally happen at the best of speeds for Jack, and it was nearing noon when he stepped onto the quayside. It wasn't market day today, but a few small stalls had been set up regardless. Heat trembled above the cobblestones, and unsurprisingly it was quiet between the stalls. The basket maker fanned himself with a straw hat, sweating despite the shadow he had created for himself. 

Well, at least he would not have to wait in line… 

There was a small stall with an elderly woman behind the wobbly makeshift counter. She did not look up as he appeared, her eyes fixed on a complicated piece of embroidery. To his relief he also caught sight of the plain, coarse fabric used for working clothes, so with any luck she would have something for him, or be able to make it quickly. 

"I will need some breeches and shirts," he began. 

"Cerm berk en a wherl, Er fenf vuh gurl ouf for fread" the woman glanced up, a needle between her lips. Jack broke into a grin, thanked her and took himself off to a promising-looking foodstall. 

He was halfway into his slice of jerk pork when he saw the young boy that sold it to him look across the square. A woman approached the seamstress with a basket, and who could that be but the 'girl sent out for thread'? Certainly everybody who had no urgent business kept inside with this relentless heat. 

By the time he had ambled back over to the stall the girl had settled herself in the shade, already bent over her needlework. The elderly woman glanced up, needle never stopping its trajectory through the expensive fabric, and said "Nina, would you help the gent to some clothes?" 

The girl looked up, and Jack felt his mouth go dry. The name should have cued him, and perhaps it had in some way prepared him, because he was not so very surprised to see Janeen here. No, what he felt was… 

For her part Janeen kept a neutral face, but he mostly looked in her eyes. What he saw there mirrored his own feelings; surprise, irritation, and uncertainty. There was a strange sensation to his stomach, as if an unexpected lurch suddenly made the deck beneath his feet drop away. He could not name it, but it seemed suddenly terribly important to speak with her. 

His mind churned with conflicting feelings of irritation and relief. He cast about for the right thing to say, but found nothing. 

Just as he clenched his hands into fists in frustration her face softened and she gave him a small smile, perhaps amused at his uncharacteristic lack of glibness. Before his mind could interfere, his mouth opened. 

"My Lady! I do hope you had a comfortable voyage," he gushed, taking off his hat and bowing deeply to her. "You did not travel with these rogues I saw, now did you? It would so put my mind at rest to know you travelled in a manner befitting a lady!" 

The volume and tone of his proclamation attracted the attention of the bored stallkeepers, and within moments at least a dozen people leant out of their own stalls to follow the proceedings with interest. Janeen flustered with the sudden attention, and Jack swallowed the rest of his speech. He wanted to disarm her, not infuriate her further! 

"Would you do me the honour of taking lunch with me?" he asked, then in the same breath to the needlewoman, "do you not agree she looks a little pale?" 

The woman glanced at Janeen's face, which was a dark brown with her blush, cracked a toothless grin, and winked at Jack. 

"F'l free girl," the woman told Janeen. "'njoy yoself." 

"But are you sure you don't need my help with that dress? I don't mind…" 

The seamstress waved an imperious hand at the younger woman. "Off you go lass, go be young." 

Faced with the choice of going with him or making a scene before dozens of curious eyes, Janeen gave in and took the arm he offered. 

There was a tavern with a shaded garden close to the little beach he had slept on the first night, and he took her there, meanwhile trying to figure out exactly what it was he wanted to say to her. It had seemed very important to speak with her, but now he had the opportunity, the words would not come. She walked next to him, her arm still in his own, head high as they left the marketsquare. Somewhere along the way she had found her composure, apparently. 

He fully expected her fury as soon as they were out of sight; even looked forward to it. 

It didn't come. 

Eventually, about ten paces further, he caved in to his own curiosity. 

"Are you not angry?" 

"Hmm? Oh yes, furious," she answered pleasantly. He blinked, looked at her again, and detected an amused gleam in her eyes. To his irritation he found that she was using his own tactic of acting off-key to keep his opponent off balance against him, and even worse, that it was working. 

They entered the tavern and he gave her a questioning look at the barkeeper approached him. 

"Grog please," she said. 

"Go on sit outside, I'll be right there." 

When he came outside carrying two tankards of grog he couldn't see her, and for a long moment his spirits dropped into his toes with the thought that she had escaped him again. But no, she had pulled two chairs into the shadows at the very edge of the garden and was giving him a contemplative look. 

The barkeeper came over to them with two bowls of the day's stew, and they both occupied themselves with eating for a while. Not that Jack was hungry, but it gave him a moment to think. 

Now came the difficult part. After he had successfully drawn her to a place where they could talk, what did he have to say? Evidently she was asking this to herself as well, and he detected the hint of an amused smile around her lips. He was used to having the upper hand in a conversation, and she seemed to enjoy seeing him in this position for once. 

Not that he planned to allow her that pleasure for long. 

"So tell me lass, what have you been doing with your lovely self?" 

It wasn't the most brilliant beginning, but it was an opening at least. It would never do to let her think she had him off-balance. 

"Well, sold the boat, bought some clothes, and found a job with Lizzy… and she has an order for a wedding dress here, so we came to Grenada for a few days.," she summarised. She sounded quite happy with the situation, and Jack felt a strange pang of disappointment. "You?" she returned the question. 

He grinned "We had to sweep all the way into Grenada, it took forever. Be glad you weren't there. We're doing repairs at the moment." 

"They wouldn't let me row even when I _was_ there…" 

Jack struggled with the right manner to bring up the question _why _she had left, and why everything had gone so terribly wrong after that enjoyable night they had shared. But they were talking so pleasantly now that he was hesitant to bring the conversation to more disagreeable grounds. 

"Well, I'm glad to see yer okay. Worried a bit that ye were gettin' into trouble again." 

"Really?" - a little archly now. 

"Yup, really," he grinned to conceal his growing unrest. He didn't know what he wanted to say, nor what she wanted to hear, and it felt as if he was digging an even deeper hole for himself. 

"Why did you want me to sign the ship's articles anyway?" she suddenly asked, startling him from his thoughts. 

"I, errr… I thought that's what you wanted," he said, trying to hide his insecurity. Yes, at the moment he _had_ thought it was what she wanted. In hindsight maybe he could understand what it had looked like to her… 

"Oh." 

An uncertain hand fluttered to her cheek, and Jack let go of the idea that she was trying to gain the upper hand somehow. She seemed just as daunted by this conversation as he was. 

"I thought— it seemed—" 

He waited while she organised her thoughts. 

"After what had happened… I thought you wanted to…" she trailed off, as if she were looking for a word that would describe her meaning without insulting him. 

"…own you?" he supplied. She seemed a bit taken aback with that word, but nodded anyway. 

"Well maybe I should have explained to you exactly what signing on means, then. It means that instead of a stowaway without rights, you became part of the crew and shared their duties, but also their rights. A share of the work, a share of the food and grog, and a share of the loot. A captain doesn't own his crew anymore than that Lizzy owns you." 

She took a sip of her grog to mask what seemed like embarrassment.  
"I apologise for—" 

"I should have explained that to you in the first place love, not force you into it," he interrupted her. It was a rare thing for Captain Jack Sparrow to admit such a thing, and he hoped she would value the words. 

They looked at each other, and drank their grog. 

It wasn't an uncomfortable silence. It was the silence of two people who have cleared some, but not all, things out of the way and now contemplated where they went from here. 

"What are you repairing on the Pearl?" she asked after a time. "I didn't know she was damaged…" 

"Oh, mostly stuff we should have done a good while ago. Did I ever tell you how she was out of my hands for ten years because of a mutiny? Only got her back 'alf a year ago, and not in the best condition. We did some work to patch 'er up, but a whole lot more is needed…" 

He told her about the work in more detail, and she listened with interest, asking questions now and then. It pleased Jack that she seemed to have found an interest in sailing, and he was more than happy to tell her all about his beloved ship. 

Finally she glanced at the sky, startled, and started to rise.  
"I am sorry, I really ought to go back to Lizzy," she said. Jack remembered what he had come on land for and grinned. Almost forgot about that! 

"Yes, I came to order some clothes," he grinned. She gave him an incredulous look, but dismissed it, and accepted his offered arm again on the way back. He glanced at her and felt his grin grow; she walked like the lady he had pretended she was. 

Back at the stall of the seamstress old Lizzy greeted them with a wink and a toothless grin, and while Janeen took some measurements with an extremely neutral face, Jack tried to take his mind off the touches by chatting with the old woman about the bolts of cloth he had. They agreed he'd come back two days later for the cloth and the clothes, and he bid Janeen farewell in his best courtly manners. 

Captain Jack Sparrow rowed out on the tide, humming a jaunty tune.


	21. Stowaway chapter 21

STOWAWAY

Chapter 21

* * *

Time did not seem to be passing in its usual way.

Captain Jack Sparrow had become accustomed to the feeling of days-that-felt-like-years in the time that the Pearl had not been under his feet, but this...

He was forced to admit that these days, even with all the repairwork going on, felt like centuries.

Not that that had anything to do with Janeen.

Honestly.

Not a damned thing.

Who was he trying to fool? Himself? As Anamaria would have snapped, 'Yo a damn fool Sparrow!'

He missed Anamaria, he knew. He missed the way she could put his feet back to the ground whenever he threatened to fly off into a fancy. He needed her right now, to stop him from self-deceit and to force him to face facts.

He missed Janeen.

He had missed her before, in an uneasy way, but after seeing her again it was hard to miss the fact that caused this restlessness.

He didn't like that. Was it love? He didn't trust love. He remembered the frankly downright _stupid_ things the boy Will had done for Lizzie, and he knew that love was dangerous. Especially for a pirate.

He wasn't in love.

It was just that he'd like Janeen to return to the ship and sail the oceans with him. He remembered the moments he had seen her up aloft, looking at the horizon with that delighted look in her eyes, and the thought occurred that convincing her to come with him might not be as hard as he had thought. She had taken to the sailing life, he knew; had delighted in the freedom of it.

On the morning of the second day he woke up with an uneasy feeling to his stomach, and he could not decide if this was premonition or simple uncertainty about how to handle the upcoming conversation. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone.

He oversaw the making of a new cabin door while he helped the riggers with tarring, hoping the work would distract him, but it could not. When it came to noon he took off the dirty, torn shirt, sluiced down his upper body and changed into a borrowed shirt. It was the best he could do to render himself presentable – and whyever he should have the desire to do so anyway confounded him.

_Nevermind._

It was once again quiet around the stalls, and the two women sat in the shadow, each working on their handiwork with slow movements. He thumped the three bolts of cloth onto the counter, and they both looked up in surprise.

Janeen smiled at him, but it was the old woman who stood up to speak with him. The cloth was to her liking, but the price he asked for it was not. In fact what she offered for it was far below his intended price, but he did not refuse the offer outright.

"Let me think upon it mistress," he said with a flamboyant bow. "I should like to see my new clothes first."

That was the cue for Janeen to stand up and invite him into the stall. She handed him a small pile of clothes and recommended he try them on behind the curtain to see if anything needed to be adjusted. Finding this somewhat superfluous, for pirates weren't generally concerned with fitting their garments perfectly, he nonetheless humoured her.

Finding the clothes much to his taste, he declared that it was all perfect, and while she was a little flustered from the praise he handily extracted a promise to take lunch with him.

When he turned back to old Lizzy he found her giving him a speculative look. In a low voice she offered him his clothes plus some coin for the cloth.

"And I might be able to spare the lass for the afternoon in that case," she grinned. Not willing to endanger this prospect, and admitting it was no unreasonable deal, Jack shook her hand.

"Deal."

She packed his new clothes up in an old cloth, and Jack looked at Janeen.

"My lady, would you permit me to take you out for lunch?" he asked her formally.

She gave him a startled smile and looked to her employer, who nodded.

As soon as they had left he marketplace he could feel her growing uneasy, and she glanced around with the apprehension of a fat, slow merchantman who knew pirates were not far off.

Getting her to relax took a considerable effort on his side, and Jack wondered what had happened to quench her spirit so. When she finally smiled he felt his own face glow with pleasure.

He took her to the same tavern as before and they ate, drank and chatted in a enjoyable manner that pleased him very much. Her demeanour was relaxed now, and he listened to her relating a story through a warm haze.

Until he actually listened to the words more closely and found she spoke of where she would travel next.

It was disillusioning to hear that while he had in mind for her to rejoin him on the Pearl, she clearly had other things planned. However, Captain Jack Sparrow would not be Captain Jack Sparrow if he let himself be thwarted in his plans by details. Now was the time to pose the question to her.

"Janeen, love..." he began, and as she levelled that penetrating stare at him, fell silent. Posing the question, he found, meant facing the very real possibility of refusal...

"...don't you think it would be a tad dangerous, travelling on yer own?"

That had come from the crevasses of his mind and the moment the words came out he knew they were wrong.

"—there is also a Naval fort there and they might still be looking for..."

Her eyebrows rose a fraction, and he plunged on:

"...sailing there would be much safer, I would be willing to—"

There was no stopping now.

"—bring you..."

It wasn't what he had intended to say, to ask, but in her face he saw that she at least forgave him for that first, patronising line.

"You'd be willing to take me there? Bring me and drop me off?"

The scepticism in her voice was not unexpected, and he knew he would have to be clearer about what he wanted if he didn't want to give the wrong impression again.

"Yes, I..."

It was a lot harder than he had thought.

"...I would like you to sail with me on the Pearl," he said quickly, "I... was..." he grasped around for the right word, "_sad_ when you left, earlier, and I would like you to come back with me..."

She was speechless, shocked with what he had just said, but he could tell the gleam in her eyes – the same gleam he had seen before when she thought he acted possessively.

"I don't want you to be mine," he said quickly before she could reply. "But I would like you to be with me."

There, that was it. It was the most open he had ever been about matters of the heart, the most no-nonsense he had ever spoken to a woman. If it wasn't enough, nothing would be.

"I—I don't know what to say," she said, eyes cast down.

Jack resisted the urge to say 'say yes, say yes' and waited for her to collect her thoughts.

"No," she said finally, her voice small. "No, I will not come with you..."

Jack bit back his disappointment, reminding himself sharply that the consequence of giving her the choice – rather than abducting her, and he admitted it had been an option at one point, you were a pirate or not – was the possibility that she might refuse him.

"There was a time I would have jumped at the chance," she smiled weakly. "But... no. Lizzy needs me now, and this island suits me, and I think this is the closest to a normal life I have come in a long time..."

"Well..." Jack grasped around for a way to make this less definite, even if only for himself. "I think I will operate in this area for a while to come, so if you change your mind..."

She smiled, and he could tell she was grateful for the way out.

The rest of the meal was awkward despite his attemptsto liven it up. They were half-hearted attempts in any case, for he could force himself to _act_ cheerful, but not to _feel_ so.

He left her at Lizzies stall, a forced grin on his face. There was a moment of hesitation in her eyes, but she gave him a smile, and bade him goodbye as neutral as she ever had done.

Jack turned and left, forcing his shoulders back and his head upright. Well, he had new clothes, but if they could ever be worn without bitter memories...

* * *

Awww... poor Jack! Not an easy chapter for me, this. What did you think?

Cheers,

Arwen


	22. Stowaway chapter 22

STOWAWAY

Chapter 22 (conclusion)

(my excuses for the awkward formatting. Originally this was done with tabs, but doesn't want to support that)

* * *

He was gone.

Well, she'd wanted him gone, hadn't she? He had made her feel hunted. Owned. He had decided over her fate regardless of what she wished for herself.

Just like...

Matt.

She spat the name, along with the memories. Matt who had sweet-talked and flattered and then, when she had turned out to have a will of her own, had seen no problem in beating it out of her. Matt who had taken her away from the fishers' village she grew up in and locked her in a hut away from the wind and the sea.

Matt who had levered his big body on top of her because he wanted a son, and beat her when she could not give him one.

There were more images, bloody and yet infused with the gruesome satisfaction of the moment. She had seen them enough times in her dreams that they no longer upset her as they once did.

Matt who had _owned _her.

Janeen grimly stuck her needle through the fabric, trying to ban the memories to the attic of her mind, where they could claw and screech at the walls without giving her too much unrest. Once again she did not quite succeed, and a cold shiver ran down her spine.

When Lizzie and she had left their lodgings early that morning, she had _seen _Matt. He had lumbered through the crowd appearing even larger than she remembered him, his hands clenched into fists as always.

And despite the fact that she was older, stronger, no longer the young girl he had so easily intimidated in the past, no longer _property, _despite the fact that he was dead, she had cowered in the doorway.

Then there was Jack, and she liked him, had been soothed by the light, unfocused movements of his hands, smiled at the lilt in his speech. He had been kinder to her than she had had any right to expect, but then charity was just a different word for property, wasn't it?

Charity never came without a price.

She certainly had been dragged back aboard quickly enough when she had seen the chance to get aboard the Dutch ship. Among all the other lies she had almost forgotten that she had told him she was taken there.

His touches had been gentle, as if she was something that might break, but Janeen had not forgotten the iron grip that had bruised her wrist.

Not that it mattered now.

She was free. She earned wages – no luxury but enough to eat, and she had come to like Lizzie, who was busy with a fancy dress and could use help with the plainer clothes.

She wasn't owned by anyone. Nor hunted; the last governor didn't seem to have spread the word any wider.

She was free.

* * *

"When can these repairs be finished?"

Jack was aware of the surprised look Mister Gibbs gave him, but cared not. "Well?"

"Four days Capt'n, three perhaps if the new timber arrives today."

"Good! We'll make haste; it's 'bout time we set off again."

Ignoring the crew, Jack turned away and disappeared into his cabin. Not that there was any quiet to be found there, with carpenters working at various places around the ship – and privacy on this little wooden world was an illusion in any case.

But his cabin locked, the lock had been replaced, and there was a good bottle hidden in a double cupboard there.

Dawn came far earlier than was seemly, Jack reflected fuzzily. There was a dreadful hammering in his head, as if two little men sat inside his head to pound on his brain whenever he attempted to achieve conscious thought.

On second thought, that would be the carpenters who had started early. Jack opened his mouth to bellow for them to go away when he remembered that he wanted to set out soon, so it was probably best to let them work.

He clung to the remains of sleep like a limpet, but they disappeared fast as the hammering continued. Not even a pillow over his head could bring much relief.

"_Women_," he muttered under his breath. Always being _difficult._ Anamaria had been difficult, but then he had liked that, the fire and the spirit. Janeen had much the same on occasion but now it _smarted_ – all that he offered she turned down. He had offered his most private thoughts and feelings, and she had turned them down.

She had wanted a normal life.

Well, Jack was no real judge of normalcy, but the thought had occurred that if that was truly what she wanted she might have to adjust some of her expectations.

Normal lives generally weren't coveted. Certainly not by pirates...

As hammering took up just on the other side of the bulkhead of his cabin, Jack rose with an anguished bellow and flung the pillow against the wall.

There was only one thing left to do.

* * *

_She was free._

"Your young fella' not coming today?"

It was two days since she had last seen Jack and well past noon. Janeen tried to ignore the heat while she did repairworks on a pair of Sunday trousers. The unrest would not leave her, though she had seen no sign of Matt. No sign, in fact, that he hadn't been a figment of her admittedly very lively imagination.

"No Liz," Janeen answered dully. "He's not coming anymore."

"Why not?" the old woman gave her a sharp look. "You sent him away?"

Janeen was silent for a while.

"Jah..."

"Why? He was good to you, wasn't 'e?"

She couldn't answer that, not out loud. There were all kind of reasons, and they all mixed together and confused her.

He _had_ been good to her, hadn't he? The problem was that it felt as if he'd only be good as long as she pleased him. When she hadn't behaved as he expected after she'd bedded him, he had grown possessive and angry.

Janeen was through with being small and meek just so that people would not be angry with her.

"Well lass, no man is sweet to ye all the time, y'know?" Old Liz said gently. "He's just gotte respect ye."

She nodded her head numbly. Yes, respect.

She bitterly reflected that she probably wouldn't recognise it if it came up and bit her.

Nonetheless, she was _free._

Except, how free could you really be on an island?

* * *

"Jack, fer god's sake either go after the lass or forget her, but DO somethin', will ye? All this moping makes the crew look 'round for better berths, and you know how hard it is to find decent crew in a place like this."

Captain Jack Sparrow looked up from the piece of rigging he was winding and saw the determined stance of Mister Gibbs.

"Working on it, Mister Gibbs!" he answered jovially. When it was clear to his first mate that he would get no more out of his captain, Jack was left alone again.

He stared at the strand of oakum in his hands, worrying it slowly while his thoughts were elsewhere.

Yes, he _was _working on it. On the ship, to be precise. So that they could be off.

The urge to go ashore, bundle up Janeen and march her off to the Pearl had sprung up several times over the past few days, but the thought resurfaced every time: "Would I have done that with Anamaria?"

Not in a million years. Anamaria made her own choices, without consulting him or expecting his judgement. And he had liked that, admired the fire and independence in her.

Now he considered it, Janeen had displayed those same traits on more than one occasion.

He just hadn't liked it as much in her.

_Because they turned her against me sometimes._

It was a harsh thought, and he roughly continued with the rigging to shove it to the background. Pirates weren't much prone to self-reflection, and obviously he wasn't nearly working hard enough if his mind could come to such scathing conclusions.

The work was nearly done. If tomorrow morning they took on food and water, they could sail with the evening tide.

The superstitious streak in Jack insisted that he lead the provisions party so that fate had the opportunity to let him run into Janeen. Besides, it was a last-minute opportunity to recruit some more crew, though he had no doubt Gibbs would do his best tonight. They could still do with about ten able seamen, a carpenter, someone skilled in patching up the wounded, a sailmaker, a second mate and a cooper. After these repairs some of these weren't strictly necessary, but always desirable to have aboard.

Come to think of it, he'd have to go ashore to replenish his private stock of rum.

* * *

She was free, but it was not the freedom of the sea.

She missed it, really. Missed the way the planking had moved under her feet, missed the way it had rocked her at night. Missed the way you could look miles far every way you looked.

It had had a safe feeling to it. If you knew everybody on the ship, there was no reason to look around anxiously as she did now, always worried to find the big shape of Matt blocking out the light.

Jack didn't do that. Not only because he was smaller, but the pirate didn't seem to occupy space in the same way. He sort of... insinuated himself, hands fluttering as if adjusting to the currents on the air.

At first she had been uneasy about the hands, expecting them to lash out suddenly as they traced their paths through the air. She had no doubt that they _could_, but they had not, and she had learnt that it was just his way.

Out at sea the world felt small and transparent. A three-masted wooden world without past or future, with only today, and perhaps tomorrow. There had been something comforting about that.

Even though she didn't exactly remember many peaceful days on the ship, with Jack running hot and cold as unpredictable as anything and her own emotions doing no less.

_"I don't want you to be mine, but I would like you to be with me."_

She remembered those words suddenly. The words had surprised her too much at the time to pay much attention to his expression, but she remembered that now. For a moment there had been no mischief dancing in his eyes, no stance in his shoulders, no pretence. She had thought at the time that he was trying to tell her what she wanted to hear, but no – for once it was real.

Perhaps it would have been fair to show herself for once. Tell him her real name. Lower the shields. _Take the risk._

She could always make him drop her off somewhere if it didn't work out.

Well, it was too late for that now; the cooper's apprentice who had come for his trousers this morning was sure the pirate ship was gone.

In a way that was a relief. Here in Grenada she didn't know anyone and had no desire to learn to know anyone. She could just be Janeen.

* * *

Jack watched as the first boat rowed out with the evening tide.

It carried all-important caskets of water while the second boat was being loaded with seabiscuits, caskets of salted meat, bags of flour and nets with limes, green bananas, pineapples, mangoes and cantaloupes.

Four crewmembers milled around behind him, carrying all these things to put them with the heap on the docks, where Gibbs and the new carpenter Jacks'n loaded them into the new boat. There were the last people and the last things the Pearl had ashore.

This tide would carry their boat toward the Pearl and Pearl out to the open sea, and they would leave Grenada behind.

Probably forever. Oh, he had said he would return, but he didn't feel very inclined to self-torture if Janeen stayed here. No, Florida sounded attractive now, and after that, well who knew? The sea was his mistress, and he was at her beck and call.

Had always been, would always be.

"Hand me that net of pineapples, would ye? Come on, lend a hand!" Gibbs said. Jack heard the rest of the crew pause their chatting, and turned around.

Janeen.

In trousers, wide shirt and with her hair tied back. She held a canvas bag, but it dropped to the planking of the docks when she met his gaze.

She gave him an uncertain smile, and in that instant Jack felt everything fall into place. She was no more sure of how to act toward him as he was toward her. Right now, though the thought was ridiculous, she looked as if she thought it a very real possibility that he'd send her away.

He answered her smile.

"Heard you were looking for a sailmaker," she said, a shake in her voice as if she wanted to turn and run. Between them the last bags were loaded into the boat.

"We are indeed," he said with a gesture for her to get into the boat. "What's your name?"

She smiled, but the nervousness was not gone.

"Jahzara"

At first he thought she continued the pretence of not knowing each other, but then he saw her eyes, and it cost her to say this.

"Well, Jahzara, consider yourself part of the crew."

Mister Gibbs directed the last man into the boat, and Jack thought he caught a smug look from his first mate. He said nothing, just wondered if Gibbs had done a bit of targeted recruiting last night. He didn't know if to be annoyed at the meddling or grateful for the outcome.

Probably the last.

As the boat pulled out of the harbour Jahzara took a deep breath, and he smiled at her. Perhaps this _was_ a new beginning. He knew she came as much for the sea as for him – maybe more. But that was all right, for that love was always first in his thoughts also. Perhaps if they both courted an unattainable mistress, things were equal again.

She smiled back, the nervousness fading from her face, and Jack felt a curiously light feeling to his stomach.

_Will, lad, perhaps you **were** onto something..._

[END!]

* * *

Feels funny to reach the end of this! Thank you all for your support, Erin in particular for helping me through some of the rough bits 'ere.

Cheers,  
Arwen Lune


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